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HM
Meliora:
^ ^ttavtevls iEt(t)((t»
OF
Social Science
IN ITS
Ethical, Economical, Political, and Ameliorative
Aspects.
VOL. XI.
'VIDEO MELIORA PROBOQUE.
Ovid. Metamorph., lib. vii, 20.
LONDON :
S. W. PARTRIDGE, 9, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1868.
MAN OHESTSa : FBINTEO AT THE QUARDIAN STBAM-PBINTINQ OFFICES, CBOSS ST&BBT.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Technical Education m» i
Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drink ... 20
Administration of the Poor-Law in the Metropolis 39
Aunt Lucretia's Experience in Limited Liability 57
Scotland a Century Ago 75
XVXE^IC>AN X'IrK **^P *** ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •>. ••• ••• 77
Deaf and Dumb Talkers 79
■DAi>x V^AMO£«JdLo ••• ••• ••• ••( «•« ••• ,,, ••• ••• a,, ••( ••« OO
Baby Farming in Manchester 80
v^UEER l^ODGINGS ... •.• •.• ... ... ... ... •.• ••• ... ... ••• Ol
J-'C' 1 1 ilUKXCid ... •*• ... ••• .as *•• •.• •«• ... ... ... ... ... •.• Ox
The Bronte Family 84
Messrs. Spottiswoode's Kitchens 85
The Flint Arrow and Spear-head Manufacture 86
X 11 E X AT A vOM 0 ••• ... ... ... ... ... ... ••• ••• ••• ... ... ... ®/
How TO Make Working Men's Clubs Self-destructive 88
The Education of Women 97
The Education of Boys 113
Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Reform 125
nothing to xjo ... ••• ••• •.• ■•• ... ... ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ^34
The Unsteady Hand 157
xiYGERIA L«ODGE ... ••• ••• ••■ ••• ••• •.• ••• ••• ... *.. ••• 1O9
The Cold Bath in the Asylum 173
X HE X ADDED xvOOM ... ... ... ••* ... ••• ... *.. ... ••< •.• '75
X ixE £.v£ OF dT. IVxAKi^ ... ••• ... ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• '/5
A xxINT FOR JLDLE LADIES •*• ... ... ••• ... ••• ••• ••• ... ... ^77
iSQUALOR S Xi^jVRKET ••• ... ... ... ••• ... ... ••• ... ••• <•. ... 179
Difficulties of Identification 182
Sunday Drinking and the Select Committee of 1868 193
The Preservation of Commons and Open Spaces 214
X A^nr NBKOKING ... ... ... ... ... ... ••• ... .•• ... ... ••• ... 22Z
Jk ASTOR X* LIEDNER ... •.• ... ■•• ••• ... •*• ••• ... ... ... ... 23 1
The Great Gambling Table at Epsom 243
1^4161
IV
PAGE
Working Class History of England... 257
James Bell, the Innocent Convict 261
Organisation of the Destitute Poor and Criminal 267
Increase of Insanity among the Poor 271
Petted Daughters and Spoilt Wives 274
Caricature and its History During the Reigns of the Georges 276
i LAY ••. ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• «•• ••• ••. 2//
The Royal Houses of England and Sicily 278
Public Opinion ••• ••• ••• • ••• • ••• ••• ... 279
Goucho Horsemanship 279
Birmingham Trade and the Fashions 280
A Philanthropist in Every-Day Life 281
OPEED OF THE oENSES ••• ••• *•» ••• ••• ••• ••■ ••• ••• ••• ••• 2oI
A Paternal Government ... 282
JAPANESE JrUNERAL... ••• •■• .«. ■•• .«• ... ■•• ••• «.. •«. *•• 2d2
The Limits of State Action 289
Increased Pauperism and its Remedy 304
Almanacks— Old and New 316
Our Canvass ... ••* •«. ••• •■• ••• •*• ... ... ••• •.. ••• ••• 3
A Chapter of Prison Discipline 333
Life at the Tail of Commerce in London ••• 33^
How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind 347
In Gaol •■• .•• ... «•• .«• • * ••• ••. ••• ••• *** 3^^
The Employment of Climbing Boys 3^^
Florence Nightingale's Advice to Women 3^
Scenes in a Night Asylum 3^7
What to do for the Apparently Drowned 37^
Notices of Books 92» 184, 283, 370
Meliora.
TECHNICAL EDUCATION.
1. Schools Enquiry Commission. Report Relative to Technical
Education, London : Eyre and Spottiswoode. 1867.
2. Copy of Lettei' from B. Samiielson, Esq., M.P., to the Vice
President of the Committee of Council on Education,
concerning Technical Education in various countries abroad.
Ordered by the House of Commons to be printed, 26th
November, 1867.
3. Geological Survey of the United Kingdom: Museum of
Practical Oeology, and Royal Scliool of Mines. Seven-
teenth session, 1867-8. London: Eyre and Spottis--
woode.
4. The London Daily Papers, January 2Uh and 2hth, 1 868.
5. Tho Birmingham Daily Papers, Ja/nuary 7th, 1868.
6. T}i£ Manchester Daily Papers, January 15th, 1868.
7. The Leeds Daily Papers, February 8th, 1868.
8. Progress of the Working Classes, 1832-67. By J. M. Ludlow
and Lloyd Jones. London : Strahan. 1867.
WE remember nothing more remarkable in the political
and social history of this country than the sudden
prominence which the subject of education has acquired
daring the last six months. The passing, by the Conservative
party, of a Beform Bill, more extensive than that which they
had rejected as too sweeping the year before, to a certain degree
prepared the country for other important and startling changes.
A£r. Lowe^ when he found that all his protests against an
extension of the franchise were in vain, declared that it was
then become necessary to educate our masters^ and thence-
Vol. ll.-^No. 41. A
w^
2 Technical Edueaiion,
forward lie should be ready to support tte most decisive
measures for bringing the working classes under instruction.
Yet even he could scarcely have foreseen how rapidly the
country would adopt his conclusion. Parliamentary Reform
had been a matter of discussion for fifteen years, the education
question in its present form — ^the claim of the whole nation
upon the State to receive instruction — ^has scarcely been
promulgated for a greater number of weeks. At the present
moment it is the one prominent subject. There is not a mem-
ber of Parliament who does not find it necessary to form some
opinion upon it. Men who have entered the House of
Cfommons in order to improve their position, and to advance
financial projects which needed lobbying/ find themselves
now compelled to pronounce a decision upon the most diflicult
social and political problem of the day. Such as these will
attempt to escape the responsibility by repeating a few glib
phrases about the advantages of education, and will wait for the
time when their political leaders will spare them further trouble
by devising a scheme which they will support as party men. It
is possible that in this way they may evade a difficulty which
they are certainly by no means qualified to surmount. No
Buch evasion is possible for those of our legislators who lay
claim to the title of statesmen. They are bound by every
consideration which can influence tiiem, by the duty which
they owe to their country, by the necessity of laying down a
clear policy for their party, by the desire to maintain their
own reputation— ^to propound a practical answer to the great
question of our time — How shall the nation be educated ?
This yearns problem difiers remarkably from last yearns.
Parliamentary reform was a comparatively simple matter. It
contained but two elements, ejxtension of the franchise and a
re-arrangement of the constituencies. Educational reform is
exceedingly complex. Educational reformers have to deter-
mine whether education shall be voluntary or compulsory, and
if compulsory, whether it shall be enforced by the parish or
by the State. Whether the schools shall be supported wholly,
or in part, by local rates ; whether they shall be denomina-
tional or secular; whether Government shall be responsible
only for primary schools, or shall be called upon to establish
schools of a higher class ; whether education at these higher •
schools shall be theoretical or practical. Closely related to
these questions are those relating to the improvement of our
chief public and grammar schools. How far Parliament will
be able to master simultaneously all these branches of the one
great subject is very doubtful.
The reasons which induced our legislators to undertake this
Technical Education. 3
formidable task are manifold. In the first place there is Mr.
Lowe's argument : — ^we must educate our masters. We have
given political power to a class hitherto for the most part
without it, and for our own sakes we must teach them to use
that power rightly. Theoretically it would have been more
statesmanlike to educate first and enfranchise afterwards, to
train the sailor before giving him control of the ship. Practi-
cally it is certain that the people would never have obtained
the franchise if they had waited until they had been taught
to exercise it. No class likes to part with power, and the
middle class was not likely to show greater self-sacrifice than
any other. Moreover there is no doubt that the right use of
a weapon is taught by practice. The soldier cannot learn
gunnery from books alone, nor the sailor seamanship in the
school of navigation. The new electors will probably make
some mistakes, and sufler for them, and so learn to avoid
other and more serious blunders which they would not have
learnt to avoid by all the teaching of parish schools and
mechanics' institutes. A further inducement to take up the
question of education is to be found in the anti-social theories
avowed by some of our trades' unions. It is impossible to view
without alarm the doctrines propounded by some of these asso-
ciations. Doubtless others, equally imsound according to the
laws of political economy, were defended by the landed class
and the aristocracy before the repeal of the com laws. But
there was not the same danger in their case that there is in
the case of the operatives. The first trusted to an unjust law
which the nation repealed ; the second defy all law, and hence
the urgency of enlightening them both as to political science
and political obedience. Another cause which has powerfully
stimulated the agitation for education is the removal of Par-
liamentary Reform from the political programme. We do not
intend to cast any slur upon the sincerity of our political leaders
when we say that they understand the importance of keeping
themselves before the country. Their very raison d'etre con-
sists in their activity. If they have no reform to propose there
is no further need of them. The party which has come to
the end of its legislative repertory is already moribund. It
cannot be denied that under Lord Palmerston the Whigs were
very nearly falling into that state. They are now shewing
signs of fresh life, and none is more noticeable than the
interest which this party is taking in education. Cynics may
call the new programme a mere party cry and bid for office ;
wise men will see in it the proof of a re-awakening to the con-
sciousness of great responsibiUties. There is still one other
oause of the present educational movement. It is this cause.
4 Teehrdcal Bducaiwii.
and tlie consequences which it involves^ that we propose to
consider on the present occasion.
Nothing has aroused educational reformers so much as the
conviction that England has fallen behind other countries in
those branches of industry which require special training.
The first International Exhibition taught us^ what indeed we
were prepared to find, that we were unable to compete with
the continent in trades allied to the fine arts. In glass, china^
jewellery, and articles of virtu, we were far in the rear of France
and, perhaps, of other countries. Eleven years later, in the
second of the English exhibitions, it was seen that we had
made astonishing progress, which was admitted by none more
fully than our former successful rivals. Last year's exhibition
at Paris has afforded us another revelation, by no means so
agreeable. We never felt any shame in being found less
artistic than our neighbours, even while we strove to amend
our short-comings. England never claimed to be the home
of art. It was the utile rather than the dulce to which she
devoted herself. She prided herself upon her great manu-
factures; her productions in iron and her machinery, and
the results of her mineral wealth. She did not suppose that
any of the nations of the old world would ever be able to
compete with her in these. She thought that her larger
supply of the raw materials, — iron and coal — ^would always
secure her superiority. But to her dismay she began to find
that countries with far more limited resources, were competing
with her in the world's markets, and when, a little later, she
had the opportunity of comparing her productions with those
of her new rivals, she was obliged to confess what her own
sons told her, — that she had been fairly distanced.
This matter was brought before the public notice under
the following circumstances. Several months ago a Royal
Commission was appointed to enquire into the condition
of and the instruction given in the grammar and other
schools of the United Kingdom not included in the enquiry
of the public schools' commission. One of the commis-
sioners. Lord Taunton, had on May 15th, 1867, some
conversation with Dr. Lyon Playfair upon the position
occupied by Great Britain at the Paris Exhibition. At
Lord Taunton's request. Dr. Playfair embodied his views in
a letter addressed to the Commissioners. In that letter he
said that the general opinion of British mechanical and civil
engineers and of chemical and textile manufacturers was, that
their country had made very little progress in the peaceful arts
of industry since 1862. They were also agreed in thinking that
the great advance made by France, Prussia^ Austria, Belgium^
Techni4Ml Education, 5
and Switzerland was due to two principal causes — ^the good
systems of industrial education for the masters and mcmagerB
of manufactories and workshops which exist in those countries^
but of which England possesses none, and the absence of
those absurd and injurious trade union rules which in England
compel men to work on an average ability, without giving
scope to the diflfering powers and differing industry of the
men. The commissioners were so much impressed by this
letter, that they addressed a copy of it to the most eminent
English jurors at the Exhibition, with a request that they
would express their opinion upon it. The letter and the
replies were subsequently published in a Parliamentary report,
the commissioners rightly deeming that the matter was too
urgent for them to delay publicity until they had completed
the very extensive enquiry which, as we write, they have com-
pleted. The jurors in almost every instance confirmed Dr. Plav-
fair's opinion. Canon Norris, formerly an inspector of schools,
said that while in the matter of primary education we are
well abreast of Austria, France, and Prussia, in the matter of
higher instruction, of all that tends to convert the mere work-
man into the artisan, these countries are clearly passing us.
Professor Tyndall wrote, that ^in virtue of the better educa-
tion provided by continental nations, England must one day,
and that no distant one, find herself outstripped by these
nations both in the arts of peace and war.' Mr. Huth, of
Huddersfield, wrote that he agreed with Dr. Playfair in toto,
and that he had long been convinced it was the want of
industrial education which prevented our country from
making the progress made by other nations. Mr. Frank-
land, professor of chemistry at the Eoyal School of Mines^
was particularly struck both by the want of progress in
the chemical manufactories of this country, and the great
advance made by Germany, France, and Switzerland. Ho
thought that the managers and foremen, as well as the masters^
suffered from lack of scientific training, and that this deficiency
was one cause of the enormous number of futile patents. Mr.
Fowler, president of the Institute of Civil Engineers, thought
that the years 1862 and 1867 were too near together to permit
of a comparison as to the inventiveness of England at these
two dates, but he was compelled to admit that foreign nations
have made greater manuJEacturing progress than England,
since the Exhibition of 1851. Mr. McConneU, C.E., declared
that our former superiority in locomotives, railway carriages,
and railway machinery, no longer existed, and that, unless we
adopted a system of technical education for the people, we
should soon not hold our own even as to cheapness of cost.
6 Technical Education.
He added, that we had too loBg treated our workmen a»
machines, and that we ought to establish mining schools in
South Wales, Staffordshire, and Durham, and machinery and
engineering schools at Manchester and Glasgow. Captain
Beaumont, E.E., stated that the groat want of England was an
institution similar to the Arts et Metiers of Paris. Mr. War-
rington Smyth ascribed the greater proportional advancement
made by France, Prussia, and Belgium in mining, colliery
working, and metallurgy to the superior training and knowledge
of the managers and sub-officers. He added, ' no candid
person can deny that they are far better educated, as a rule,
than those who hold similar positions in Britain.' Mr. Mallet^
F.R.S., wrote that he fully agreed with Dr. Playfair, that a
better system of technical education for all classes connected
with industrial pursuits had become a pressing necessity in
Ghreat Britain. Mr. Scott Russell, the builder of the Great
Eastern, stated as the result of his personal investigation, that
technical education was much more advanced in Switzerland
than in England.' Mr. Cooke, R.A., was so convinced of the
superiority of foreign manufactures, that he urged the Execu-
tive Government, and the chief municipal bodies, to lose na
time in consideration of this subject. Mr. Mundella, of
Nottingham, was of opinion that while England possessed
more energy, enterprise, and inventiveness than any other
European nation, the superior knowledge of foreign workmen
enabled them to improve English inventions. Having works
in Saxony, he was well acquainted with the condition of the
operatives there, and he found the contrast betwixt the work-
people of England and Saxony most humiliating. It was
impossible to find in Saxony a workman who could not read
or write perfectly. Some of the sons of the poorest workmen
were receiving a technical education such as the sons of our
manufacturers could not hope to obtain. Mr. James Young,
who has risen from the position of a working man to that of
proprietor of the largest chemical works in the kingdom,
attributes his success to his study of chemistry at the Glasgow
University under Graham, and in his letter to the commis-
sioners lamented that technical education was not more
common.
Somewhat prior to Dr. Playfair's letter, two English iron-
masters had travelled through the iron districts of Prance and
Belgium, and had published in the Times the conclusions at
which they arrived. Messrs. Creed and Williams, the gentle-
men in question, strengthened the uneasy suspicion which
had been in existence for some time, and which Dr. Playfair
subsequently confirmed. More recently, a member of Parlia-
Technical Education. f
ment has, at the request of our government, written a mucli
fuller report on the same subject than any which had appeared
previously. It is mainly to this document, which we owe to
Mr. Bernhard Samuelson, M.P. for Banbury, and principal
proprietor of the agricultural implement works in that town,,
that the present strong interest in technical. education is due.
We shall, therefore, analyse Mr. Samuelson's letter, and shall
thereby ascertain better than we could in any other way, the
relative position of England and the Continent as regards
manufacturing skill.
Before starting for the Continent, Mr. Samuelson revisited
several of the manufacturing towns of the north of England,
and he was even then convinced of the increasing importance
of continental competition, and of the injury which had been
done to English manufactures by trades' unions.
* Powerful as their organization is for good when jadiciouslj directed, the responsi-
bility of the officers and members of sach corporations as that of the amalgamated
engineers, and others of similar importance, is all the more serious when its resources
are emplojed in sustaining such stnkes as that which took p]ace last year in the loco-
motire factory of Messrs. Bejer and Peacock of Gbrton. Until its occurrence more
than half of the engines constructed by them were exported, but since that period
the foreign trade has been diverted more than erer to other countries, whose
adrantages are far inferior to ours. The works of Messrs. Beyer and Co. also afford
cfidenoe of the unfortunate results to the artizans of another strike : I allude to that
of the iron-workers in the West Biding of Yorkshire. The necessity of obtaining
materials directed the attention of those gentlemen, and of others similarly placed,
to the iron works of Sweden and St Stienne ; and the importation of superior
qualities of iron and steel for the construction of machinery, has not ceased with
the occurrence that originated it/
Mr. Samuelson also visited Messrs. Potter's print-works at
Dinting, which produce nearly 750,000 yards of printed
calicoes weekly. Here he found in force an absurd and inju-
rious trade rule, by which workmen, whose skill varies so
much that the worth of their labour ranges from 30s. to 100s.
a week, are compelled to receive a uniform rate of 45s. The
results may easily be imagined: on the one hand, the
employes have no stimulus to industry; on the other, the
employers are prevented from turning their attention to
branches of the trade which would certainly prove remunera-
tive if there were no such rule. At Oldham, Mr. Samuelson
found much to please him. The dwellings of the operatives
are much superior to those in most other towns. The classes
in connection with the science and art department at South
Kensington have done good service ; nevertheless, there is
great room for improvement. The education received at the
primary schools is so incomplete, that when the pupils attend
the science classes they are not able to understand the processes
of reasoning nor the language of the mathematical sciences.
8 Technical Education.
At Leeds everytliiDg connected with the woollen manofactnre
has stiffened into tradition and routine. The most enlight-
ened and enterprising manufacturers are discouraged by the
passive resistance of their old-fashioned overlookers and ' lead-
ing hands/ Even in those cases where improved machinery
is introduced^ it is not used to the utmost advantage. One
result is, that the spinners and manufacturers of Belgium are
exporting to this country woollen yarns and cloths valued at
nearly £2,000,000 annually, produced from wools which have
heen imported from our colonies into England, and shipped
thence to Antwerp. So great is the discouragement, that the
more enterprising young men refuse to engage in the woollen
m.anufacture and enter into other branches of industry. At
Bradford all is different: the master manufacturers are of
unsurpassed energy ; the workpeople are free from the preju-
dices of their brethren at Leeds, in spite of their very imper-
fect education, which the masters are now earnestly seeking
to improve. The lace trade at Nottingham is in an even more
unsatisfactory state than the woollen trade of Leeds. Mr.
Samuelson found loud complaints of the differences between
masters and men. The trade in all manufactures, except
cotton-lace and net, was said to be rapidly finding its way to
France ; and many valuable but unemployed English lace
machines, costing from £400 to £800, had been purchased for
half their value by the manufacturers of Calais, where Mr.
Samuelson afterwards found them in full work. Never was
the saying, ^ the exception proves the rule,' more true than in
the case of the Nottingham lace trade. There was one branch
of it which Mr. Samuelson found to be very flourishing — ^the
lace-curtain manufacture, — and it was precisely this branch
which had been indebted to the local school of art, erected at
a cost of £8,000. The patterns designed by the pupils in this
school, are preferred, not only in England, but all over the
world, to the patterns designed in France. Per contra the
imperfect technical knowledge of the dyers employed in the
hosiery trade had led to a decided preference for Germans.
The French lace manufacturers declare that Nottingham ' has
gone to sleep lately,' that the manufacturers there rely too
much on their acquired position and cheapness of production,
and do not give sufficiently close attention to details. They
say that even when a good French designer goes to England,
he gives way to the prevailing somnolence, and does nothing ;
though, when he returns to France, he is as energetic as he
was before he migrated. These facts have, since Mr. Samuel-
son wrote, been supplemented by others brought forward at
some of the conferences on teclmical education, which have
Technical BducaJticnx. 9
been held during tlie present year. Mr. Mondella^ of Notting-
ham^ who maintains that England is not retrograding abso-
lutely, but only by comparison with the rapid advance of other
C5onntries, yet goes so far as to say that Macclesfield, Coventry,
and Spitalfields are dying ; that, with ignorant instractors,
superintendents, and overlookers in England, and educated
instructors, superintendents, and overlookers abroad, England
has not a chance. He declares that there is not a dyer in
Nottingham who understands chemistry, and that 50 per cent.
of the workpeople cannot read or write. Mr. Field, the
President of the Birmingham Chamber of Commerce, said at
the same conference, that whereas he remembered the time
when one-third of the hardware stores of the United States
came from Birmingham alone, the present proportion is less
than one-tenth ; that the very machinery which the Birming-
ham manufacturers used came from America ; and that, in spite
of a 50 per cent, duty on iron, and wages 50 per cent, higher
in the States than in England, it was American, not English
made picks and shovels which the English miner used in the
gold-fields of Australia. He attributed the great progress of
American manufacturers to the fact that they put more brains
into their work.
Such are the statements made by competent men with
regard to English manufactures. We now turn to their
account of manufactures abroad.
Beginning with the iron works, those at Creuzot are the
most extensive in France. Creuzot is situated in the Blanzy
coal-basin, about thirty miles west of Chalons-sur-Saone. The
surrounding country is very like that of the Devonshire valleys
near D^tmoor. The coal is extremely friable, and for smelting
requires to be mixed with the bituminous coal of St. Etienne,
which has to be conveyed thence to Creuzot, a distance of
ninety miles. It is necessary also to mix the ores, and those
from Africa, which are almost pure peroxide of iron, are
brought by rail, thanks to the exceedingly low rates charged
by the railway companies in France. The Creuzot works
were founded in 1781, and dragged on a precarious existence
until they were purchased in 1836 by Messrs. Schneider of
Paris. They are still the property of M. Henri Schneider,
president of the Corps Legislatif, of his son, and a small
number of other partners with limited liability. When they
passed into Messrs. Schneider^s hands, 60,000 tons of coal
were raised, and 4,000 tons of iron produced annually, and
the works were small. They now cover 300 acres, and the work-
shops and forges 50 acres, and the mines yield annually
250^000 tons of coal and 300^000 tons of iron ore; and
10 Techmcal Education.
, 300,000 tons of coal and 120,000 tons of ores are purchased
annually. The iron works produce more tlian 100,000 tons of
iron, besides macliinery, bridges, and even gunboats and
steamers, of an average yearly value of £600,000. The
wages amount to £370,000, and are paid to 9,950 workpeople.
Thirty years ago Creuzot was only a wretched mining village-
of 2,700 inhabitants. It is now a well-built town, with
churches, schools, markets, pubhc walks, and gas and water
works, and contains 24,000 persons. The machinery and
appliances are not different from the best used in England.
It is not therefore through any mechanical inventions that
Creuzot has become such a formidable competitor of our great
iron works. We have seen, moreover, that the French works
are at a considerable disadvantage by reason of having to
bring their iron and their coal from a long distance. The
cause of the success is to be found in the greater skill of the
workmen. M. Schneider informed Mr. Samuelson that there
was not a man employed in erecting marine engines who could
not make an accurate drawing of the work on which he was
engaged. What this signifies and is worth a mechanic alone
can folly appreciate. The number of workmen in England who*
could do iflcewise is lamentably small, for our men have under-
gone no special training, no technical education. At Creuzot^
on the other hand, the children who attend the elementary, or
primary schools, have an opportunity of acquiring special
knowledge. The instruction at these schools extends over
nine years, and includes French literature, history, geography,
natural philosophy, the chemistry of metals, algebra, geometry,
mechanical and free-hand drawing and modelling. The more
promising boys are sent to the secondary and higher iechnical
schools, and many of them afterwards fill responsible fDsitions
in the technical management of the works. The other boys
are drafted into the works, and employed according to their
capacity, as draughtsmen, clerks, or simple workmen. Edu-
cation is not compulsory; but no one is admitted into the
works who cannot read and write. Boys rarely enter the
works before they are fourteen, and women are employed only
after seventeen, and only upon such light work as dressing
ores. Every person is paid immediately by the proprietors,
and generaUy by the piece or by the ton. The system of
contracts with middle-men, which is common with us, is un-
known at Creuzot. Tables, showing the actual daily eaminga
of every man, are suspended in the workshops, so as to bo
open to the inspection and to stimulate the emulation of all.
During fifteen years there have been at Creuzot only nine
cases of crime which would be considered felony by our law.
Technical Ediccation. II
Three policemen form the entire preventive force. Drunken-
ness is rare^ and as a consequence frugality is the rule. How
fer it is so the following figures will prove : —
Bflposited with Messrs. Schneider hj 540 emploj^ £97,500
JFVeehold property belonging to employ^ 212,000
„ former employes 130,000
,1 strangers 94,000
»» t»
£533,500
St. Etienne and the coal-basin of the Loire are generally
considered the natural seat of the iron and steel manufactures
of France; but though there is an abundance of bituminous
coal^ the iron ores are so sulphurous that their use has been
almost abandoned. The ores chiefly smelted are brought from
the south of France, the Pyrenees, and Algeria. The coal
contains more ash and less heating power than any except the
Scotch. There is a royalty of Is. per ton, payable to the
government and the landowners. The wages are one-third
lower than, with us ; but this advantage does not counter-
balance the great drawbacks of dear fuel, imported iron ores^
and great distance from the sea. In spite of these disadvan-
tages, one of the firms at St. Etienne is, by a simplification of
the Bessemer process, supplying one of the great French rail-
way companies with 20,000 tons of steel rails at a price below
their prime cost in England. At these works a most careful
chemical analysis of all the raw materials and products is
made daily, and is one of the conditions of success. All the
managers have been pupils in some of the technical schools.
Boys are not admitted into the schools until they are thirteen
years of age. Prior to that they are educated at the elemen-
tary schools, upon which the company have spent £4,000.
Mr. Samuelson visited the famous steel works of Krupp, at
Essen, in Westphalia. These consume nearly 1,000 tons of
coal a day, which is raised at 5s. a ton. Nearly 8,000 men
are employed, and produce 60,000 tons of steel annually, or
more than twice the entire product of steel from the United
Kingdom. All the heads of the technical departments are
pupus of the various polytechnic schools of Germany. The
commercial staff includes a jurist, by whom all contracts are
settled and legal questions determined. Forty years ago, Mr.
Krupp, then fifteen years of age, employed one journeyman^
and he himself travelled about seeking orders. Mayer^s
works at Bochum are almost as large as those at Essen.
There the most delicate moulded castings are made ; and steel
bells, costing half the price of those made in bell metal, are
manufactured. Steel disc railway wheels are cast there in a
12 Technical Education.
single piecc^ and are to be found on every German railway.
There are no trades' unions in North Germany; but the
Keichsrath has passed a law permitting their formation.
Hero, as elsewhere on the continent, the workman invests his
savings in the purchase of his house, with perhaps a little
farm of five or six acres. Mr. Samuelson is convinced that
the iron manufacture of Westphalia will increase beyond all
precedent, except that of our own Cleveland district, so soon
as the great oolitic deposits bordering on Friesland are brought
into proximity with the Westphalian coalfield by the comple-
tion of the projected railways. In Belgium Mr. Samuelson
found education deficient ; but the employers were awakening
to this, and establishing schools for the teaching of geometry,
mechanics, metallurgy, and the theory of mining. Turning
to other manufactures, we find the same favourable report of
those of foreign countries. At St. Etienne, for instance, there
is a school of design, and the silk manufacturers produce their
own patterns.
Statements like these which we have dwelt upon — the
almost unanimous opinion of competent judges — that England
is shewn by the Paris Exhibition to be behind other countries,
and the investigations made by Mr. Samuelson during his
continental tour last Autumn, have called so much attention
to this subject, that public meetings have been held in various
parts of the kingdom to consider what can be done for the
promotion of technical education. Manchester, Birmingham,
Nottingham, Halifax, and other towns have had 'Conferences'
between manufacturers and professors, and in London a very
important meeting was held at the Society of Arts, which was
addressed by Earl Russell, Earl Granville, and other distin-
guished men. The Gx)vemment have also issued a series of
twelve questions to our representatives abroad respecting the
provision made in every country for technical instruction. We
need not, however, wait for their replies. Already a large
amount of information has been supplied by gentlemen who
have inquired for their own satisfaction, and have published
the results of their inquiries for the public benefit.
Mr. Samuelson's letter to Lord Robert Montagu, before re-
ferred to, gives the fullest information. We learn from him that
in France there are two classes of schools, primary or elementary,
and special or technical. Primary instruction may be either
public or private ; if private it may be imparted by any person
giving satisfactory proof of capacity. Every commune is bound
to support at least one primary school, except in those cases
where very small and poor communes unite to support a school
between them. The school fees vary from Is. 2d. to 2s. 6d.
Technical Education, 13
a month ; bnt the poor are taught free^ and the ministers of
religion and the mayors of the communes have power to remit
the fees. The number of children educated in the public
primary schools, in 1866, was a little over 3,500,000 ; the cost
of educating them was £2,164,000. Of this amount less than
£500,000 was contributed by the State, and £1,674,000 was
paid by the inhabitants, either in the shape of school fees, or
in that of communal taxation. The results, as a whole, were
by no means satisfactory. Out of 594,770 children who left
school in 1866, 80,995 could neither read nor write, and
114,071 were unable either to read or else to write. Some of
the schools are models of excellence, especially the Ecole St.
Nicolas, which educates and teaches a trade to 1,800 pupils.
It consists of two schools-^K)ne in the Rue de Vaugirard, near
the Luxembourg, and the other at Issay, in the suburbs of
Paris. The second is a preparatory school for the first, and
receives children at seven, and educates them until they are
ten, and then they are transferred to the Rue de Vaugirard.
Here they may be placed as apprentices in the workshops
forming part of the school buildings. The apprenticeship
lasts four years, and the boys are taught by masters who
follow their respective trades for profit. All the boys are
boarders, and pay £14. 10s. per annum for board, education^
and clothing during the first three years; in the fourth year
this payment is defi^yed by the master. When Mr. Samuel-
son visited the school there were 700 boys in it, and 140
apprentices in the workshops. He was especially pleased
•with the boys' drawing. Those in the workshop were being
taught the manufacture of bronze ornaments, that of musical
and optical instruments, carving in wood, and modelling in
clay. Besides the primary schools for children there are
others for adults. These have increased to the most remark-
able extent. During the Winter of 1863-64, the number of
adult classes was only 5,623; these had increased in 1866-67
to 32,383. The entire number of adult scholars was 829,555,
of whom considerably more than a third were absolutely
illiterate on entering. They were taught drawing, book-
keeping, natural philosophy, geometry and land-surveying,
history and geography, and singing. Geometry was by far
the most popular subject. Passing to the secondary, special,
or technical schools, we find that technical instruction was
introduced into the lycees and colleges of France about fifteen
years ago, and that there is now scarcely a town of importance
in France which has not its lycfee or college. The most
eminent of these are the Ecole Turgot and the College Chaptal.
The first is only a day sdiool^ and is intended for the sons of
14 Technical Education.
small tradespeople ; the second is for those of the wealthier
inhabitants, and receives boarders. At the Ecole Turgot
there are 800 pupils, 100 of whom hold exhibitions from the
municipality. The school fees are only £6. 12s. per annum,
but are sufficient to defray all the costs of the school, the
buildings being rent free. The instruction extends over five
years, one for the preparatory division, three for the ordinary
course, and a fifth, or supplementary year, for those pupils who
intend to enter the Ecolo Contralo, or some other of the
higher schools. If Paris had a dozen schools like the Bcole
Turgot they would all be filled. The instruction does not
include classics, but does include English and German.
Church history is taught, and in the third year dogmatic
theology. The secular instruction consists of French litera-
ture, history, geography, bookkeeping, free-hand and geo-
metrical drawing, singing, the theory of music, mathematics,
spherical geometry and trigonometry, and a complete course
of natural history. Chemistry and natural philosophy are not
begun until the second year. Subsequently, natural history
is taught in its application to the arts and commerce ; the
courses in natural philosophy and chemistry are completed,
and analysis is practised in the laboratory. At the College
Chaptal the fees are higher, viz. — £10 and £14. In a little
rOver twenty years the institution has saved £48,000, and
spent it in the purchase of ground and the erection of
buildings. A remarkable peculiarity in this college consists
in the visits paid by the boys to industrial works during the
six weeks preceding the vacation. They take notes and
dimensions of the machinery and erections of the works
inspected, and from them execute plans and elevations.
Entirely distinct from these are the technical schools proper.
These are, as a rule, subject to the ministries of the depart-
ment which the kind of education given in them is intended
to subserve. Thus, the Ecole Polytechnique is under the con-
trol of the Minister of War ; the School of Naval Engineering
under the control of the Minister of Marine ; the three schools
of arts and handicrafts at Chalons, Aix, and Angers, the
Central School of Arts and Manufactures, and the tlu'ee great
agricultural schools, are subject to the Minister of Agriculture,
Commerce, and Public Works. The Ecole Centrale is pro-
bably the most celebrated school of applied sciences in the
world. It was founded as a private undertaking by four
eminent men of science. Its pupils include some of the most
famous engineers and manufacturers. M. Chevalier has said
of this institution : ' K the Central School did not exist it
would be necessary to create it as the complement of the
treaties of commerce.'
Technical Edtccation. 15
The three provincial schools at Chalons^ Aix^ and Angers^
above mentioned, will serve as types of the technical schools
of France. The course occupies three years. The pupils rise
at 5-15. Five and a half hours daily are devoted to theoretical
studies and seven hours to manual labour. The students are
classed in three divisions, according to the years of entrance.
Pure mathematics occupy a large portion of the teaching of
the first and second years. In the third year the pupils are
taught industrial mechanics, more especially the construction
of steam and hydraulic engines, natural philosophy, the
elements of chemistry, particularly with reference to the
materials employed in engineering. The lessons in drawing
proceed upwards from the elements of linear drawing to com-
bined views of machinery, plans of workshops, &c. The
number of pupils in the three schools is 900 ; all are boarders,
and the charge for board and instruction is £20 per annum,
which is far from defraying the cost. Most of the pupils are
the sons of mechanics, small tradesmen, or persons holding
minor Government appointments. A large proportion, pro-
bably one-half, hold exhibitions obtained in competitions
founded by the communes or by private persons. The com-
petition for them is very keen. Of 465 pupils who left the three
schools in 1862-63, 188 were foremen and workmen, earning
from 3s. to 3s. 6d. per diem; 165 were draughtsmen, earning
from 3s. 8d. to 4s.; and 47 were marine engineers. It is
rarely that the pupils at these schools continue workmen;
They rise rapidly, and form excellent ^ raw material' for intel-
ligent foremen and sub-managers of works.
.Mr. Samuelson visited also the schools of Germany and
Switzerland. In those countries education is nominally com-
pulsory; but this term is really a misnomer. The parents
consider the attendance of their children at school a privilege,
the children consider it a pleasure. The lessons consist of
animated exercises and conversations, in which pupils and
teachers join with equal zest. In Prussia every child between
six and fourteen must attend school; but after twelve, and
on proof of a certain amount of elementary knowledge,
children may be employed in labour on condition that they
continue to attend school for a certain number of hours
weekly. Throughout Switzerland, and in nearly every German
state, the cost of primary instruction is borne by the com-
munes. Scarcely anywhere is instruction given gratuitously,
but the fees are extremely low, varying from Jd. per month
in Canton Berne to lOd. in most Prussian communes. The
secondary schools are the Gymnasien, Eeal Schulen, and
Gowerbe-Schulen. In the first the training is purely literary
16 Technical Education,
and scientific. In the second there is less Latin and there
are more modem languages taught than in the first, and
physical studies are carried further. In the third the modem
languages^ history, and science occupy a still larger share in
the curriculum. Mr. Mundella's account of the schools in
Saxony is well worth quoting. He told tho conference at
Birmingham that the best building in every Saxon town
was a school, that more than one-sixth of the population
attended the public schools, and besides there were a
large number of children in private schools. There are
no people in Saxony who cannot read and write well.
At the Peoples* School in Chemnitz, he found children
without shoes and stockings, whose parents were earning
only half the wages made by English artizans, who could
not only read and write well, but had a good general
knowledge of geography; knew, for instance, more about
England than many English children knew, and were snch
ready reckoners that they converted instantly English ponnds^
shillings, and pence into Saxon, French, and German cur*
rency. He was 'utterly humiliated and appalled at the
contrast between English and Saxon children.* After the
peoples' schools came the preparatory schools, where youths
are prepared for the technical schools. In Saxony, teaching
is reduced to a science. Finished scientific men are sent oat
of the polytechnic institutions to apply art and science to
manufactures. At the polytechnic school in Chemnitz, a
town one-eighth of the size of Birmingham, 378 persons went
through a course of technical instruction in one year, and it
was obliged to refuse 40 per cent, of the applicants. The
subjects taught were mechanics, chemistry, cotton and woollen
spinning, weaving of tissues, dying and bleaching, building and
architecture, botany and agriculture. There were museums,
with models of all descriptions, large botanical collections,
and an immense laboratory. Fifty-four of tho scholars were
overlookers in manufacturing establishments, and they had
to pay only 1 Ss. for a half year's instruction.
Though England is lamentably behind continental countries,
it must not be supposed that she has done nothing for tech-
nical education. It is now just over thirty years since the
first School of Art and Design was established (1 837), in
accordance with the Eeport of a Parliamentary Committee
published the previous year. The new undertaking languished
until 1851, wnen the Exhibition aroused English manufac*
turers to their deficiencies, especially in the patterns of goods,
wherein they competed with the manufacturers of France and
India. The establishment of the ' Department of Practical
Techni4yal Education, 17
^ Art^ followed in 1852, and in that year there were twenty-
one ' Schools of Design ' opened with 4,868 pupils. Arrange-
ments were subsequently made for art teaching in other
schools, and in 1855 the number of art pupils had increased
more than six-fold. In 1864 the number was 110,638, which
•was slightly diminished in 1866. The good eflfects of these
schools were clearly seen in the Report of the Delegates of
Parisian Workmen to the London Exhibition in 1862. The
delegates declared that in several departments of art manu-
facture the progress made by Englsuid had been immense.
The claims of science^ as a branch of education, were not
recognised until some years after the recognition of the claims
of Art. The two are now united in the much abused ' Science
and Art Department,^ which has its head quarters at South
Kensington. The science schools do not number ten per cent,
of the art schools, but they increased from nine, with 500
pupils, in 1860, to 220, with 10,231 pupils, in 1 867. The most
valuable of these institutions is the Royal School of Mines, in
Jermyn-street, London. This school holds its classes in a
large building erected as a museum, in connection with the
Greological Survey. It was established in 1851, in consequence
of the memorials which were addressed to the Government by
the leading representatives of the mining interest. They
nrged that, although the annual value of the mineral produce
of the the country was four-ninths of the total amount pro-
duced by the whole of Europe, the miners and metallurgists
of the United Kingdom were unable to obtain that instruc-
tion in the theory and the practice of their calling, which
had long been carefully provided for their foreign competitors
in the mining colleges of Franco, Belgium, Prussia, Saxony,
Austria, Spain, and Sweden. The Government listened to
these memorials, and made use of the nucleus which already
existed in the officers^ laboratories, and the collections of the
Geological Survey. The oflScers of the Survey became for
the most part the Professors of the School of Mines. On
their appointment a stipulation jvas made that each should
deliver annually, and free of charge, a lecture to working
men. They have done far more than is required of them;
and men of the eminence of Professor Tyndall, and Pro-
fessor Huxley, have gladly given a whole course of lectures
gratuitously. These courses are indeed the most satisfactory
incident in the history of the institution. On the morning
upon which tickets are issued there is quite a crowd of
applicants, real working men, or their wives or children
applying on their behalf. K the lecture room held 6,000
instead of 600, it would probably be filled. The men who
Vol. W.—No. 41. B
18 Technical Education.
are so fortniiate as to obtain admission are most attentive
listeners. Many of them take notes^ and we liave heard
of an amusing instance of sharpness^ in which a working
man corrected a mistake made by a learned professor in
working ont the binomial theorem. The school has not been
yalned as it deserves to be by the class for whom it is especially
intended. It is true that some gentlemen, either from love of
science^ or because they are owners of mine property, attend
the classes and submit to the examinations, and work as hard
as though their livelihood depended upon their industry. But
the lacge and important class of mine agents have made little
nse of the institution. And yot the attractions are great.
In the first place the fees are very low. For instance, while
the sum of £40 will entitle the payer to attend all present and
future courses of lectures, in the case of mine agents and
managers the fee is only £20. Then there are eight Royal
Exhibitions of the value of £50 per annum, entitling the
holder to free admission to all lectures and the laboratory for
three years, on condition that the holders attend the lectures
regularly, and pass the examinations required for the associate-
ship of the school. One &ee admission is granted yearly to
the Cheltenham college, and to the Mining Schools at Bristol
and Truro. The Prince of Wales, as Duke of Cornwall, has
established two scholarships of £30 each, tenable for two
years; there are two Royal Scholarships of £15 each; and^
besides all these, there are medals and prizes of money. Nor
does the School of Mines cease to care for its students when
they have finished their curriculum. There is not one student-
of any distinguished merit who has not had the opportunity
of receiving employment on the Geological Survey, either in
Great Britain, India, or such of the colonies as are being
surveyed. Nevertheless, as we have said, mine agents do not
avail themselves, as they ought, of the privileges ofiered to
them.
This fact throws grave doubt on the proposal so strongly
urged during the last few weeks by Mr. Samuelson, Mr.
Mundella, Professor Levi, and others, that Government should
eetablish technical schools in various parts of the country.
Mr. Levi suggests a very large scheme. He would have
technical schools, with workshops, collections of tools, in-
struments, museums, and libraries, and agricultural schools,
with farms and gardens, in the principal towns of the kingdom ;
schools in relation to weaving, dyeing, and mechanics, at
Manchester, Leeds, Glasgow and Belfast ; mining schools at
Truro, Newcastle, and Glasgow ; navigation schools in London,
Liverpool, and Greenwich; agricultural schools in Bedford
Technical BducaMon, 19
and Warwick ; and scIiooIb of metallurgy in Birmingliam and
Sheffield. Mr. Samuelson would begin with Manchester,
where Owens College seems to offer the nucleus of what is
wanted ; and he would have ' science teachers ^ trained at the
school of mines^ a larger capitation grant given for instruction
in the more difficult scientific subjects, and would make, as
one condition of Government assistance to a scientific school,
the stipulation that a perfecting school should be affiliated ta
it. But Mr. Bright, in a recent speech at Birmingham, has
reined in these rapid goers. He maintains, and the Times has
endorsed his opinions, that if these schools are wante4, they
will be established without the help, or at least without the
initiation, of Government; and that the wealthy manufactu-
rers of Birmingham and Manchester and other large towns
ought to be able to find the money at once. We confess that
these arguments do not seem so unanswerable to us as they
did to the editor of the Times, It must be remembered that
education differs from trade. The supply must, in a great
measure, precede and create the demand. Men do not know
how ignorant they are until they have begun to acquire know-
ledge ; and, so long as they are ignorant of their ignorance,
they will not take any steps to remove it. The Paris Exhibi-
tion was the first lesson given to our manufacturers — the
lesson which told them how little they knew. But who will
deny that it would have been more satisfactory to have ac-
quired this knowledge at home, and earlier, so as to have
avoided the humiliation which last yearns revelation brought
us? Then, again, with reference to Mr. Bright's second
argument, that the manufacturers are wealthy enough, and
should be spirited enough, to establish technical schools
without Government aid, we may remark, that to establish
schools is one thing, to render them efficient is another. For
this purpose there must be well-trained teachers, and these
can be best secured through the intervention of Government.
There is no reason why the principles already in force with
regard to our present primary schools should not be applied
to technical schools. For this cause we hail with satisfaction
the recent memorandum, announcing that the Committee of
Council on Education will make special payments and bonuses
in order to encourage the departmental schools of art. This
is a step, though a short one, in the right direction.
(20)
LEGISLATION ON THE SUNDAY SALE OF
INTOXICATING DRINKS.
1. The Oeneral Licensing Act. 1828.
2. The Metropolis Police Act. 1839.
8. TIis Lord's Day Sale of Liquors Act. 1848.
4. The Forbes Mackenzie Act. 1853.
5. Report of the Select Committee on Fuhlic^houses. 1854.
6. The Sunday Beer Act. 1854.
7. Reports of the Select Commi^ittee on the Sunday Beer Act.
1855.
8. The New Sunday Beer Act. 1855.
9. Report of Her Majesty's Commissioners on the Scottish
Licensing Laws. 1860.
10. The Scottish Fuhlic-house Amendment Act. 1862.
11. A Bill for Closing Public-houses on Sunday. 1863.
12. A Bill for further regulating the Sale of Fermented and
Distilled Liquors on Sunday, in England and Wales.
1867.
UNDER tlie date of 1641, tlie parish books of St. GUes,
London, contain an entry of £1. 10s. paid as a fine by
the landlord of the ' Catt/ for permitting tippling in his house
on the Lord's Day. The Long Parliament, first known as
' the correcting Parliament,' had not long been assembled, and
had given orders that some of the social abuses which had
accumulated along with the arrears of political grievances,
should be taken vigorously in hand. The laws against tippling
and Sabbath desecration were called into a vitality not pleasant
to hardened trespassers ; and we may presume that Sunday
tippling, as a combination of offences, would be strongly
dealt with. The old Anglo-Saxon abstinence on Sunday
from all ordinary labour, may have embraced the alehouse
as well as the baker's shop ; but there is reason to believe
Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks, 21
that^ in the case of the alehouse-keeper, the restriction hadf
dwindled down to a suspension of business during the
hours of Divine service ; nor could this measure of decorum*
be relied upon — for Sunday profits had ever a charm,
for vintners and victuallers — unless the parish churchwardens-
and constables were intent upon their duty. It is impossible^
to say how far the famous Lord^s Day Act of 29 Charles 11,^
c. 28, (1677), was intended to arrest the tide of Sunday intem-
perance which, along with other forms of profligacy, had
rolled in upon the nation with the Stuart Restoration. The
wording of the Act was stringent enough to close every ale-
house during the whole of Sunday ; for it provided that ' no
tradesman, artificer, workman, labourer, or other person what-
soever, shall do or exercise any worldly labour, business, or
work of their ordinary callings upon the Lord^s Day, or any
part thereof, works of necessity and charity alone excepted ; '
and the application of this prohibition to the common sale of
intoxicating liquor seems less capable of being explained away,
as among the few exceptions named is included ' the dressing
and selling of meat in inns, cookshops, or victualling houses,
for such as otherwise cannot be provided.' Whatever may
have been the purpose of the Legislature, it is not probable
that this Act eflected any very marked or permanent change
in the general management of alehouses and taverns on the
Lord's Day; and we know for a certainty that, amidst the
changes tlurough which the Licensing system passed during the
next century and a half, no restriction on the Sunday drink
traffic was incorporated with it, except the traditional inter-
diction of selling during the hours of Divine worship. Public
morality, during that extended period, remained at a low ebb,
and it was something gained that by the 21 George III.,
c. 49, (1782), public-houses were not allowed to be used for
Sunday debates. No advance was attempted even in 1828,
when the Licensing Acts were consolidated in the 'Act to
regulate the granting of licences to keepers of inns, alehouses,
and victualling-houses in England,' 9 George I V^., 61; nor is the
Sunday sale of liquor referred to at all in that statute, except
in the appended schedule of the licence to be granted, where,
among other provisos, it is required that the licence-holder ' do
not keep open his (or her) house except for the reception of
travellers, nor permit nor suffer beer, or other excisable liquor
to be conveyed from or out of his (or her) premises during the
usual hours of morning and afternoon divine service in the
church or chapel of the parish or place in which his (or her)
house is situated, on Sunday, Good Friday, and Christmas Day.'
Eleven years elapsed^ and the infatuated legislation which
' 22 LegislaUon on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks.
m
raised np tlie Beershop system had borne its grapes of gaU
and apples of Sodom^ before any effort was made to appfy a
cbeck to tbe traffic which kept possession of the whole of
Sunday^ limited only by three or four church^going hours^ and
in thousands of places limited by only half that length of time.
Scarcely a village or hamlet was free &om the corrupting
influence of shops, open when all others were closed, into whi<£
the idle and careless were drawn, the earnings of the week
dissipated, and the mind debauched by the filthy conversations
carried on by the graduates in vice. In large towns the evil
assumed a more glaring form, on account of the keener com-
petition of rival publicans, and the more expensive attractionSj
both external and internal, which had begun to prevail, the
artifices of a struggling selfishness, reckless of every other
interest but that winch was bound up with selling and getting >
gain.
The disorderly state of the streets in London, just before the
commencement of morning service, grew at length so scanda-
Ions and offensive, that a remedy was seen to be imperative ;
and such a remedy was provided by the insertion of a danse
in the Metropolitan Police Bill of 1839, 2 and 8 Vic, c. 47.
This truly memorable clause, the 47th, reads as follows : — ' No
licensed victualler or other person shall open his house within
the Metropolitan Police District for the sale of spirits, beer,
or other fermented or distilled liquors on Sunday, Christmas
Day, and Good Friday, before the hour of one in the aflbemoon^
except [as] refreshment for travellers/ (A similar provision,
to apply to the City of London, was inserted in the 2 and 3
Vic, c 94, s. 26 ; and by the 5 and 6 Vic, c 44, s. 5,. the
sale of intoxicating liquors, up to one o^clock on Sunday, in
river steamboats, Ac, was strictly forbidden.) The debates,
as reported in Hansard, make it appear that no opposition
was offered to this clause; no objection is named, and no
division was taken upon it. Some other clauses dealing with
drinking and drunkenness did not pass without discussion,
one of the principal opponents of restriction being the notorious
Thomas Slingsby Duncombe, who stated that he had recently
dined with three thousand publicans. It has been said that the
47th clause took the publicans by surprise, but this can scarcely
have been the case, since they found honourable members
willing to represent their dislike to other points, and to divide
the House on behalf of their clients. It is more probable that the
Sunday abuse was too flagrant to be defended, and that the more
astute advised concession on one point with the hope of making
a stouter resistance upon others. The honour of the parentage
of this Sunday clause, has been variously awarded. Years
Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating DrinJcs, 23
^^erwards^ Lord Monteagle^ in the House of Lords^ claimed
to have suggested it in 1 839^ wHen Chancellor of the Exchequer^
as Mr. T. Spring Bice^ shortly before he was raised to the
peerage. The name of Mr. Hawes^ M.P. for Lambeth^ has
also been associated with the authorship ; while the late Bishop
of London is known to have believed that he had much to do
with this admirable stroke of legislation. The Bill in which
it was embodied was a Government measure^ and though Lord
John Bussell was then Secretary of State for the Home
Department^ Mr. Fox Maule^ the Under-Secretary of
that Department^ piloted the Bill through the Lower
House. The beneficial effects of the provision were so unde-
niable and gratifying^ that in about two years the Town
Council of Liverpool secured its insertion in an Improvement
BiU promoted by them^ and similar action was taken by the
municipal authorities of Manchester and Newcastle-on-Tyne.
The results in all cases afforded unqualified satisfaction ; and
the statistical returns^ evidencing a marked decrease of Sunday
intemperance^ were collected by the British Temperance
League^ and made the groundwork of an appeal for legislation
more complete in principle and more general in application.
The agitation thus commenced^ led to the presentation in the
session of 1845 of petitions bearing nearly 200^000 signatures^
and in 1846 the renewed agitation succeeded in sending up an
array of petitions still more numerously subscribed. Men of
great eminence^ such as Lord Cottenham and the Bishop of
St. David's, avowed their sympathy with the movement, but
for want of a competent leader nothing was done in either
House until 1848, when the Earl of Harrowby, in conjunction
with Mr. Wilson Patten, agreed to bring the question before
Parliament, in the definite form of ^ A Bill for Regulating the
Sale of Beer and other Liquors on the Lord's Day ' (11 and 12
Vic, c. 49). The preamble set forth that ' Whereas the provi-
sions in force within the Metropolitan Police District and in
some other places in England against the sale of fermented and
distilled liquors on the morning of the Lord's Day, have been
found to be attended with great benefits,' — therefore it was or-
dered that such sale in every other part of England and Wales
should not be permitted till half-past twelve on Sunday morn-
ing, ' or before the usual time of terminating worship in the
prmcipal place of worship of the parish or place.' The second
clause repealed the existing regulation that forbade beer-
sellers to open till one o'clock. The third clause prohibited
the opening of any public-house or beershop for the sale of
any article whatsoever until the time allowed for selling liquor.
The fourth clause restricted coffee-shops from opening till five
24 Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks.
o'clock on Sunday morning. The fifth clause empowered
constables to enter all drinking-shops whenever acting under
superior orders ; and the sixth clause inflicted a fine not
exceeding £5 for each offence against the law, every separate
act of sale to be deemed a separate ofibnce. The first reading
of the Bill took place June 2nd, 1848. On the second reading
Lord Brougham eulogised it as ' a useful and safe Bill,' but
moved it to be referred to a small select committee. Lord
Campbell said that as the main provision had acted most
admirably in London, ' he could see no reason for deferring
legislation.' Lord Kinnaird added a few words in support.
On July 11 it was read a third time in the Lords. The first
reading in the Commons took place July 18th, and the second
on the 19th. In Committee Mr. C. Berkeley moved the
omission of all the words before half-past twelve, — ^in fact, the
rejection of the Bill, but his motion was defeated by 59 votea
to 24, and a similar motion by Mr. Milner Gibson was alse
lost by 58 votes to 25. The Bill was read a third time and
received the Royal Assent, August 14th. The operation of
this measure realised all the expectations that had sprung
fipom the excellent working of the local acts, and the whole
kingdom was put into possession of corresponding benefits,
which no other species of legislation could have possibly con-
ferred. Encouraged by this success, the friends of temperance
renewed their efibrts, and claimed that the second half of the
Sunday should not be deprived of the protection accorded to
the first half. The Sunday evening was still in the hands of
the liquor vendors, and with few exceptions they used the
legal permission to make the closing hours of that day a
carnival of dissipation, with disastrous consequences to the
comfort and purity of myriads of homes. Five years, however,
passed, before any response came from Parliament to the agita-
tion sustained outside ; and it was not till 1854, when a Select
Committee on public-houses, which had sat in 1853, was
re-appointed (Feb. 24th, 1854) as before, under the Chairman-
ship of the Right Hon. C. P. Villiers, that the subject assumed
a practical shape. The Committee's attention in that session
was extensively occupied with the subject of Sunday closing,
and after evidence from a large body of witnesses, including
working-men and publicans, the Report of the Committee was
drawn up by the Chairman, and finally approved on the 13th of
July. About one-sixth of the Report was devoted to an analysis
of, and comments upon, the evidence given on Sunday
closing, and among other observations it was said, ' The testi*
mony is universal that a great amount of drinking takes place
on Saturday night and during the hours that the houses are
Legislation on tits Sunday Sale of Intoxi^uiting Brinks. 25
allowed by law to be open on Sunday. * * * It is
important that those engaged in the trade should be made
aware that there is a rapidly growing conviction abroad, and
spreading even into their own ranks, in favour of closing
throughout the entire Sunday all places for the sale of intoxi-
cating drinks/ The Report concluded with a series of
resolutions, one of which was couched in these terms : ^ That
w'ith the exception of the hour of from one to two p.m., and
of from 6 to 9 p.m., all places for the sale of intoxicating liquors
shall be closed on Sunday, and that on week-days all such
houses shall be closed from 11 o'clock p.m. to 4 a.m.' This
' resolution ' was carried unanimously at the final meeting of the
select committee, attended by the chairman and nine other
members. Not a moment was lost by Colonel Wilson Patten
to gain legislative effect for this important recommendation ;
for on the same evening, July 13th, a bill framed in its
precise terms was introduced into the House of Commons and
read a first time. It was at once printed under the title of
' A BiU for further regulating the sale of beer and other liquors
on the Lord's day,' 17 & 18 Vic., c. 79, and was afterwards com-
monly described as the Sunday Beer Act. The second reading
was taken July 17th, but, on July 22nd, the third reading,
Mr. H. Berkeley opposed it as a specimen of class legislation,
and as a great hardship to excursionists, and he concluded by
declaring that ' he could not consent to a bill which proposed
to inflict so much injustice on the community.' Mr. Wilson
Patten defended his bill, and expressed his confidence that ^ it
would be found a beneficial and not an oppressive measure
towards the poor.' Mr. Laurence Heyworth said that 'the
demand for such legislation sprang from the poor, and he
believed that a bill for closing public-houses and beershops
during the whole of Sunday would meet with the acquiescence
of all the respectable and intelligent portion of the working-
classes.' Lord Dudley Stuart denied that the bill exhibited
partial legislation as against the wishes and interests of the
poor, and he appealed to the success of the more ample
measure which had been in operation in Scotland for nine
months. Mr. Bankes doubted whether the bill went far
enough. ' It was the only subject upon which the public had
manifested unanimous opinion during the present session.'
Mr. W. J. Fox repeated the objection about excursionists.
Mr. Henley was glad the bill was likely to become law. Mr.
Crawford feared the vice of drunkenness would take a more
secret form. A third reading was then taken without a division.
To conciliate the Licensed Victuallers' Association, Mr. Patten
had consented to allow the sale of drink up to 10 p.m. instead of
26 Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks.
to 9 only, as at first proposed; but tho Earl of Harrowby
wHo had been entrusted with the bill for the House of Lords, was
persuaded by the friends of the trade to consent to other altera-
tions, extending the time of sale to half-past 2, instead of 2,
and from 5 to 11 in summer, and 5 to 10 in winter; but no
liquor to be drawn after 10 p.m. These proposed amendments
were stated on the night of the second reading, July 2bt}i,
when Lord Brougham, the Duke of Argyll, the Marquis of
Clanricarde, and Lord Alvanley, offered remarks on the bill,
the first two noble lords speaking in its favour. Lord Camp-
bell also gave it as his opinion that the bill ^ would be of great
service to men belonging to the working-classes; but the
good it would be to women and children would be incal-
culable. He was not at present inclined to recommend the
adoption of the Maine Law, although, perhaps, we might come
to that ; but he felt bound to say that he went all the length
of the proposed Act.' When the bill was read a third time,
July 28th, Lord Shaftesbury reminded the Peers, that the
demand of the country was not for restriction, but for tho
closing of public-houses during the whole of Sunday, and he
urged their lordships to render their assistance in carrying out
the improvement so ardently desired. He deprecated Lord
Harrowby's amendments, except the extension from 2 to half-
past 2. The Bishop of London (Dr. Blomfield) concurred.
Parliament could not compel the people to be religious, but it
had the power of removing from them strong temptations to
violate the precepts of morality and religion. He did not
think it any hardship to the working man to shorten the hours
of drinking, and it must be remembered that the less time
they gave him for drinking, in the same proportion would
they enable him to spend more time and money on his wife
and children, besides removing from him the opportunity
of contracting habits of intemperance.' The Marquis of
Clanricarde had no objection to see public-houses closed in the
large towns, but did not want excursionists to be deprived of
refreshments. On a division, the amendment for allowing the
sale of liquor from five to six was negatived by a vote of 24
to 15, and the other amendment — allowing the houses to
remain open till eleven in summer — was negatived without a
division. The Bill passed a third reading without further debate,
received the Royal assent, August 7th, and came into force on
the following Sunday, August 13th. It has been represented
that this enactment was premature, not sufficiently deliberate,
and not supported by opinion ' out of doors.' But the opposite
is the truth. During the whole of 1853, and the first six
months of 1854, a wide-spread public agitation had been sus-
Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating DrinJcs, 27
taindd^ and some very large meetings liad been Held. At one in
Manchester, held in the open air, attended by many thousands,
only one hand was held up against the resolution; and at
Leeds, a town's meeting in the Cloth Hall, reckoned to consist
of 20,000 persons, and presided over by the Mayor, had
decided by a very large majority in a similar manner.
During the session of 1 854, petitions to the number of 2,182,
bearing 415,027 signatures, had been sent up to the House
of Commons, asking for the entire suppression of the liquor
traffic on Sunday, one of which was subscribed by the
Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr. J. B. Sumner) the Bishop of
London, and 160 Ministers of the Established and Dissenting
Churches ; and the only counter petition was from StaflTord,
with 1,208 names. A deep impression had also been made by
the statistics of Sunday drinking that had been collected in
regard to several towns and boroughs, particularly those hav-
ing reference to Manchester, showing that 151 spirit vaults,
25U public-houses, and 1,027 beershops, a total of 1,437, had
been watched, and the Sunday visits paid to them found to
amount to 214,818 ; thus distributed : by men, 120,122 ; by
women, 71,111; by children, 23,585; which would give an
aggregate of 70,000 persons, allowing three visits, on an
average, to each person. Applying this estimate to 74 public-
houses and 545 beershops not watched, the number of visits
would have been raised to 307,854. It had also been esti-
mated by one observer that on the evening of the census Sunday
in 1851, the number of persons present in the churches and
chapels of St. Marylebone, returned at 17,805, was less by
2,000 than the number present in the drinking-shops of that
Metropolitan parish. The Select Committee were undoubtedly
struck with the testimony of several working-men, who volun-
teered their evidence in favour of Sunday closing ; and scarcely
less so by the statements of several London publicans who
kept their shops closed on Sunday, and testified that they
found no real difficulty in supplying their customers with beer
on Saturday fit for Sunday's use. When the Select Com-
mittee agreed to recommend an extension of the law of 1848,
BO as to limit the sale of liquor on Sunday to the hours of
1 to 2 and 6 to 9, they did so with the full conviction that less
than this could not be awarded to the public demand for the
whole-day closing. The law had not been in operation for
more than a Sunday or two before its beneficial results were
recognised on every hand, and acknowledgments of the fact
were freely made by magistrates and police-superintendents
in difierent parts of the kingdom. An active party among
the publicans, however, were animated by an implacable
28 Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Brinhs.
hostility to the measure, and several Members of Parliament
were nothing loath to aid them in an opposition, the sordid
origin of which ought to have excited the utmost disgust*
Mr. Berkeley received the unequivocal dishonour, though
otherwise intended, of leading a Parliamentary attack on the
measure, which was everywhere reducing the work of the
police and promoting Sunday sobriety and quiet ; but, in the
face of these notorious facts, the policy to be adopted was not
easily framed. The thought of introducing a repealing Bill was
abandoned when it was found that the Government would not
lend its help. At length, on June 26th, 1855, Mr. Berkeley
made a desultory speech, and concluded by moving for a
Committee of Inqiliry into the Act of 1854. The opinions he
expressed were strdngly opposed by Mr. Patten, Mr. ViUiers,
Mr. Henley and other members ; and Sir George Grrey used
these emphatic words : ' I believe if universal suffirage could be
acted upon in reference to this question, it would be found
that the desire of the people would be that the public-houses
should be closed throughout the Sunday.^ It was only on the
understanding that the proposed inquiry should be full and
impartial, that the motion was agreed to; but of the 15
gentlemen named next day to constitute the committee, nine
were known to be opposed to the existing law, and Mr. Berkeley,
its bitter enemy, was soon after nominated as the chairman.
Still the friends of the Act were not unwilling to encounter
even these enormous odds, on the faith of the solemn pro-
mises made that the inquiry should be fair and complete,
confident as they were that the evidence in favour of the Act,
if properly represented, would render it inapossible for even so
biassed a tribunal to recommend a relaxation of the law. The
committee began to take evidence July 5th, and continued to
do so on the 10th, 13th, 17th, and 19th, and on the 20th the
evidence taken was reported to the House. On the 24th the
committee sat with closed doors, and instructed the chairman
to prepare a report, although only twenty-six witnesses had
been examined, all of them but one residing in London I
On the 26th the chairman^s report was submitted, which,
after stating that 'the advanced period of the session rendered
it impossible to carry the inquiry to its full extent,^ proceeded
to affirm that the Act of 1854 had been 'attended with un-
necessary inconvenience to the public,' and recommended a
modification of its provisions. Sir J. Pakington moved as an
amendment the words — ' This committee has not yet received
sufficient evidence on the eflfect produced by the Act of 1854
to make a satisfactory report to the House in the present
session;' but for this amendment no vote except Sir John's
Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating DrinTcs. 29
own was given, all the other eleren members present agreeing
to the chairman's report. So unexpected was this decision
that several witnesses were in London who had been sum-
moned for the 26th, and sixty pounds for expenses incurred in
answering the summons of the committee, were paid to wit-
nesses who were not called upon to utter a single word. The
opponents of the Act of 1854 now pushed on their assault
without any further effort at concealment of their object. On
July 30th a Bill embodying the suggestions of the report was
read a first time ; next' night, after a short discussion, it was
read a second time ; and next night (August 1st) it went into
committee of the House, and a motion for committing it that
day three months, moved by the Marquis of Blandford, was
rejected by 62 votes to 10. On August 3rd it was read a
third time in the Commons, and, on the same night, a first
time in the Lords ; and on the 6th the Peers assented by a
majority of 25 to 16 to allow it to be read a second time by
suspending their standing orders, which forbade any bill from
the Commons to be read a second time in the Lords after
July 23rd. Next night (August 7th) it passed through com-
mittee, and having been read a third time and received the
Royal assent, it came into operation on Sunday, August 1 9th,
under the title of 'An Act to repeal the Act of the 17th and
18th years of the reign of her present Majesty, for further
regulating the sale of beer and other liquors on the Lord's
Day, and to substitute other provisions in lieu thereof.' This
Act, 18 and 19 Vic, c. 118, is still the law of England and
Wales, and by its provisions the sale of intoxicating liquors
is permitted on Sundays between one and three p.m. and
between five and eleven p.m., an increase of two hours
and a half on the period allowed under the Sunday Act of
1854, which it repealed. Comparing these hours with the
terms of the report of the Select Committee of 1854, we per-
ceive that whereas that committee advised the limitation of
the sale of liquor to four hours on the Sunday (1 — 2 and 6 — 9
p.m.), the law as it has stood since 1855 allows the drink
traffic eight hours, or double the length of time recommended
in 1854.
The question then arises — whence arose the relaxa-
tion? Did the Inquiry of 1855 discover reasonable ground
for extendingthe hours of public-drinkselling on the Lord's Day?
The Select Committee of 1855 raised the plea of ^inconve-
nience '/ but, as only one witness from all England and Wales,
outside London, was examined, and he was strongly favourable
to the Act, it is clear that the ' inconvenience ' could have
affected only the people of London; and when we look
80 Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks.
&rtlier into the complaint on tliis head^ it is seen tliat tins
* inconvenience ' related almost exclusively to the annoyance
felt by a part of the summer excursionists, because they could
not get ^ refreshments,' i.e., gin and beer, at the public-house^
on their return to town after ten o'clock. Therefore, because
some excursionists wanted to resort to the public-house after
ten o'clock on Sundays in the summer, all the public-houses
of London must bo open till eleven, summer and winter; and be-
cause they should be open till between ten and eleven, they must
be open between five and six ; and because they should be open
those hours in London, therefore all drinking-shops in England
and Wales must be open on Sundays between five and six and
ten and eleven all the year round ! On such reasoning as this
did Parliament proceed when it consented to pass the Bill of
1855; yet to speak of 'reasoning' in such a connection is
an abuse of terms. The true key to the law of 1855 is
oflTered in one word — ^panic. Under the influence of panic,
consistency, fair play, and solemn promises were all set at
nought. And whence the panic ? On the Sunday preceding
the first meeting of Mr. Berkeley's Committee, the notable
Hyde Park disturbances began, and were continued for several
successive Sundays. It may be confidently affirmed that but
for the moral cowardice with which these disorders had
infected Parliament, Mr. Berkeley and his coadjutors would
never have dared to break off the inquiry, or have induced
Parliament to legislate in the spirit of a Beport that was an
insult to the great social and moral interests at stake. And
even as to these 'Hyde Park riots' — as they have been
grandiosely styled — why should their occurrence, coincidently
with the sittings of the Berkeley Committee, have led to the
course pursued and the legislation proposed ? An answer to
this question is furnished by every newspaper writer who
chooses to enlarge on the ' unpopularity ' of Sunday closing—
the argument running as follows : — ' Because the mob made
an uproar in Hyde Park against the Sunday Act of 1854, any
similar Act will be unpopular through all coming time.' ft
ought to follow, if this argument has any point, that every
cause against which a Hyde Park mob protests is ' unpopular,^
and that Parliament is to take its cue as to what legislation is
in accordance with the national opinion, from any riotous dq^
monstration of the scum and ruffianism of the capital.
But is it the truth that the Hyde Park riots arose out of, and
were directed against, the Sunday Act of 1854? The affirmative
could never be asserted by any one who had taken the
slightest trouble to become acquainted with the facts. The
supposition is destitute of the faintest shadow of reality, and
LegislaMon on ths Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks. 81
belongs to tlie class of statements whicH almost justify the
sarcasm of the statesman^ who^ when assured that a certain
matter was an historical fact^ replied that he was then certain
it was false. It is difficult to believe that those who charge
the Hyde Park riots upon the Sunday Act of 1854, can be so
ignorant of contemporary events as not to know that they
originated solely in opposition to the Bill on Sunday Trading-
introduced into Parliament by Lord Robert Grosvenor (now
Lord Ebury), on the 19th of April, 1855. That Bill was read
a second time by a large majority, and was entirely free, as
the author was careful to state, from any allusion to the salo
of intoxicating drinks. The ' riots ' were known to have
been organised at the East end of the town by persons
engaged in Sunday morning trading, and from first to last
the rioters, who hooted and pelted the aristocratic habitiiet
of Rotten Row, raised no cry against the Sunday Beer Act,
though the Select Committee was then sitting. How eagerly
that Committee would have hailed such expressions of hostility
from the denizens of Hounsditch and Whitechapel, may be
inferred from the tone of their own proceedings ; but not a
word upon this subject was stated in their Report. Lord
Robert Grosvenor, daunted by the 'riots,' surrendered his
Bill, and the disturbances ceased; but Mr. Berkeley and his
friends adroitly made use of the panic that had seized Parlia^
ment on all questions of Sunday legislation, to stop their
inquiry and press forward the compromise they drew up.
They would gladly have proposed an unconditional repeal of
the Act of 1854, but fearing that even a panic- struck Parlia-
ment would refuse to stultify itself so grossly, they were
satisfied with upsetting the former Act, and re-enacting a
prohibition of the sale of liquors from three to five and eleven to
twelve p.m. The testimony of the witnesses, few and selected
as they were, formed no ground for the slightest relaxation of
an Act afiecting the whole of England and Wales. Mr.
Berkeley, and a majority of the Committee, were intent on
showing that the Act was oppressive and injurious by the
prosecutions and magisterial division of opinion it had occa-
sioned on the bond-fide traveller question ; by the complaints it
had elicited from the sober part of the community, and
especially excursionists ; and by the increase of illicit drinking.
But the only semblance of a case made out was in reference to
the excursionists, and even as to them Mr. S. Norwood, of the
South Western Railway, testified that '^ the railway public had
become pacified,'^ and the testimony of other railway officers
was more hearsay than direct. The London magistrates gave
no sanction to the theory that illicit drinking had increased^
82 Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating DrinJcs.
and Sir R. Mayne explicitly said ' The opinion of the superin-
tendents is that there is not more drinking in unlicensed houses
than there was formerly/ That the Act of 1 854 had diminished
intemperance and its attendant offences, was clearly shown by
the statistical tables of Sir R. Mayne, Mr. Harvey (Chief
Commissioner of the City of London Police), and Captain
Meredith, the Superintendent of the Wilts Police, the only
provincial witness examined.* There was a mass of simikur
evidence in store had the inquiry been proceeded with. It
had previously been ascertained, in reply to circulars addressed
to mayors, &c., that, of 191 towns, of which 115 were parlia-
mentary boroughs, the operation of the act had been favourable
in 128 towns, including 74 parliamentary boroughs, and
strikingly favourable in 36 other towns, including 24 parlia-
mentary boroughs . Of the remainin g 2 7 towns, the authorities
of 12 reported that there was 'no difference -/ and from 15, the
reports were of a doubtful complexion. An inquiry worthy of
the name must have resulted not only in a confirmation of the
Act of 1854, but an encouragement to extend its provisions
to the other hours of the Lord's Day. That Mr. Berkeley
performed the part of an advocate, and not that of a judge,
was perceptible to all, and in some instances he exceeded even
the license which a courteous advocate would have observed.
That he was acting as the mouthpiece of the Publicans'
Defence Association was notorious, and the presentation of a
testimonial of plate to him towards the end of the next year
took no one by surprise. So palpably did the whole affair
unfold itself, as got-up by a section of the drink trade from
interested motives, that their solicitor during the inquiry, after-
wards stated in a letter, ' I am now convinced that the agitation
was not a genuine popular movement, but arose from, and
was promoted by, the persons immediately interested in its
success.'t
^■-" - ■■ ■»■■■■■ ■^■^— ^1^—^ ■■■■■■ —1^— ^ I ■ ■ ■ ■ » »■!■ ■^■^-^^w.^— ■^-^.w— ^^^^— ^— ^^^^^w^^^M^^
* Sir R. Majne's statiitics of drunken charges embraced the first six months
of 1854, compared with the same term of 1855: — 13,814 and 12,333, a decrease of
1,481. For the Sundays of these terms 3,224 and 2,076, a decrease of 1,148. For
the Mondays of the terms 2,542 and 2,441, a decrease of 101. Of the actual
decrease of 1,481 charges, the decrease on Sundays and Mondays was 1,249! Mr.
Harrey's return embraced the eleven months preceding and succeeding the Act, the
total committals for drunkenness being respeotiTely 2,809 and 2,817, an increase
of 8, but the Sunday charges were 314 and 178, a aecrease of 136, or neirly one-
half. The chief increase counterbalancing the Sunday decrease was in the Saturday
ohargcs, but Mr. Harvey disclaimed any connection between them and the Sunday
restriction. Captain Meredith's return for the years ending June, 1854, and June,
1855, gave as the charges against drunken and disorderly persons and for common
assaults as 516 and 311, a decrease of 205.
^ t Arising out of this Committee of Inquiry was an action for libel entered by Mr.
Berkeley against the United Kingdom Alliance, on account of statements in the
AUiance Newa, attributing hii conduct to yenal motiyes. Those statements were, in
Legislation on ihs8uiiday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks. ' 35 •
This demonstration of what mi^ht be expected from
a ' Select Committee ' of the House of Commons, nomi-
nated for a purpose, was attended with one good result,
' A Bill for the better Regulation of Public-houses in Scotland,'
had been introduced into Parliament, February 22, 1853, and
had become a law (16 and 17 Vic. 67). This Act, commonly
known as * The Forbes Mackenzie Act,' though Lord Kinnaird
had more to do with its preparation than Mr. Mackenzie, made
various changes in the licensing system of Scotland, as settled
by ' The Home Drummond Act' of 1828 (9 Geo. IV., cap 58)—
and in regard to the sale of liquor on Sunday, it brought back
a state of things which had existed prior to the passing of the
Act of 1828. At that time all sale of drink was illegal accord-
ing to the common law of Scotland, but as the terms of the
license appended to that Act followed the English phraseology
of interdicting the sale of liquor during the hours of Divine
Service, it was held by the High Court of Justiciary, in 1832,
point of fact, extracts from other newspapers, but the opportunity thus furnished
of inflicting damage on the Alliance was too good to be lost. The libels could not
\)e technically justified, yet the committee of the Alliance allowed the action to
€X>me on for trial in the hope that a full exposure would be secured of Mr. Bericeley's
sbamefiil partiality and the mockery of justice in which he had been conspicuous;
bat the leading counsel of the Alliance was suddenly taken ill, and the other counsel
consented at the last moment to take a verdict of nominal damages— X5, instead of
X5,000, as estimated by Mr. Berkeley — but one, of course, carrying costs. These
costs were, however, subscribed by the friends of temperance throughout the country,
so that the funds of the Alliance did not suffer. Few, if any, supposed that Mr.
Berkeley's championship of the publicans was prompted by a desire to make money,
but it is impossible to read the minutes of evidence without blushing at the gross- :
Ben of the partisanship evinced. As early as the twenty-eighth question he is found
asking the first witness, ' Are not you aware that since the passing of this Act greater
resort is now made by the young and dissolute to places, such as brothels, where
liquors are sold all but publicly?* thus assuming as fact one of the points the com-
zmttee was appointed to investigate. Of another witness he inquired, ' As we have
etatistios to show that one man in 5,000 is a drunkard, is not the legislation, wliioh
punishes the 5,000 to get at the one, objectionable?' — here assuming(l)thatevery 4,999
men, not dnmkards, wished to go to the public-house on Sundays ; (2) that to
prevent them so going was a punishment ; and (3) that legislation should never act
80 as to be deemed a punishment by those whom it affects. The primary assump-
tion that only one person in 5,000 was a drunkard was made in the face of a
Parliamentary Return giving the number of apprehensions for drunken and
disorderhr conduct in England and Wales in 1851 as 70*097, one apprehension to .
every 260 persons, or (taking the average of four commitments of each person) one
persondrunk to l,040not drunk, and that in a single year, and including inthe ratio not
only men but women and children ! Even more audacious was the statement mado
by Mr. Berkeley to Mr. Harvey, Chief Commissioner of the City of London
Police, *• The committee has examined Sir B. Mayne, and from the statistics ha
laid before us, it appears that taking the population of London the police cases
in London are one in about 32,000,' — the fact being that the police cases of
dronkennesB alone, had been shown by Sir B. Mayne to amount to a yearly
■varage of at least one in a hundred of the population, or one person drunk to 400
■ober, men, women, and children ; so that Mr. Berkeley's perception of the evil,
indited just one-eightieth of its real extent! — ^and on such * appearances' he asked
IP^arBament ta legislate in Unakix of the Sunday drink tttilQe.
Vol. n.—No. 41, C
84 . Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks.
that these terms limited the prohibition to these honrs^ and
allowed the sale of drink daring the rest of thb day. The
English Act of 1848 did not apply to Scotland, and, thereforOj^
between that year and 1853, the condition of Scotland in rela-
tion to the Sunday traffic was even worse than that of England^
except where the licensing magistrates had made the isdue of
licences conditional on a promise to keep shorter hours. The
Forbes Mackenzie Act did not directly refer to the Sunday^
but the schedule of license contained the following proviso : —
'And do not keep open house or permit or suffer any drinkinj]^
in any part of the premises belonging thereto, or give or
servo out any liquor before eight of the clock in the morning*,
and after eleven of the clock at night of any day, and do not
open his house for the sale of any liquors or sell the same on the
Lord's day.' The adoption of this schedule closed the public-
houses of Scotland from eleven on Saturday night to eight on
Monday morning. The Act came into operation May 21st,
1854, and the moral consequences wore striking and glad-
dening in the extreme ; but ^ the trade ' there, as in England,
looking to the till, raised an outcry of injustice and oppression.
The success of the Berkeley committee seemed to pomt oat a
strategy which might be equally fatal to the Sunday closing'
feature of the Forbes Mackenzie Act, and Lord Melgon^
after failing to obtain a select committee in 1858, renewed his
efforts in 1859; but a counter proposition for a Royal Com-
mission was carried without a division — a result due to the
prudent fear of the friends of the Act that a Select Committee
sitting in London, and probably composed of active enemies
of Sunday closing, would copy but too faithfully the precedent
set them by the English Committee of 1855. The Boyal
Commission, presided over by Sir George Clerk, commenced
its sittings August 1st, 1859, and continued them down to
October 10th, taking evidence in the principal towns of
Scotland, and examined nearly 800 witnesses. The Report was
then agreed upon, making, with the minutes of evidence, two
goodly volumes, issued in the spring of 18(30. The Sunday
closing question was carefully gone into by the Commisioners,
whose judgment was thus expressed : — ^ Evidence was adduced
to us from all classes of persons, of the benefits which have
arisen from a return to the former practice on this subject.
The improvement in largo towns has been most remarkable.
Whereas formerly on Sunday mornings numbers of persons in
every stage of intoxication were seen issuing from the public-
houses, to the great annoyance of the respectable portion of
the population on their way to church, the streets are now
quiet and orderly, and few cases of drunkenness are seen. The
•
1;
lagisUMon on ihe Swnday Sale of Litoscieating' Drinks. 35
evidence of the public authorities proved that while there ha»
been a considerable diminution in the number of cases of
drunkenness and disorder since the passing of the Act 16
and 17 Vio,, c. 67, the change has been more marked on
Sunday than on any other day of the week. Employers of
labour and workmen themselves were unanimous in testifying
to the great improvement that has taken place in the regularity
of the attendance at work on Monday morning ; and many
puUioans examined before us, expressed themselves as grateful
for the existing law, regarding the cessation of business on
Sunday as a boon of which they would not willingly be deprived.
It was alleged by some of the witnesses, that the improve-
ment to which we have referred is more apparent than real,
and that the persons who formerly resorted to pubUc-houses
on Sunday, now either purchase a bottle of spirits on Saturday
evening, which they consume next day at their own houses, or
obtain drink to as great an extent as before at unhoensed
houses, or, as they are termed, " shebeens,'^ the number of
which is stated to have greatly increased of late years. There
may be some truth in these allegations. But we did not obtain
any evidence to prove that the practice of drinking to excess
in their private houses prevails to a greater extent among the
lower orders now than it did formerly. And with regard to
^ shebeens,' while the evils arising from them, and the remedies
by which these evils may be met, will form the subject of
remark hereafter, it may be noticed at present, that to
attribute to them anything like the amount of intemperance
which the closing of public-houses has put down, is to ignore
the evidence already referred to as to the decrease of Sunday
convictions, and the increased regularity of attendance by the
labouring classes at their work on Monday. Any individual
eases of inconvenience brought under our notice as having
arisen from Sunday closiag, were so inconsiderable in number
and importance, as compared with the great and general
benefit arising from the present state of the law, that we are
not disposed to recommend any alteration with regard to it.'*
* Among the almost immediate effects of Sandaj closing in Edinburgh was the
reiciiiding of a.molation to erect a new prison at great expense, the diminution of
pruoners rendering the old prison accommodation sufficient! One charge, per-
aiftaeniljr eircnlated, and oauglit up bj English newspapers that would not inquire
fortibamsalTeB, connected the Forbes Mackenzie Act with a great increase in the
oonaomptioii of spirits. The fact, however, was, that in the four years ending
DeocmbBr, 1653^ tne consumption was 28,736,071, and in the four complete jears,
nader the law, ending December, 1868, it was 22,270,369, a decrease of 6,465,702,
«r ammal average decrease of 1,616,425 gallons, with an increasing population I '
Dziren from the position of an increased consumption, the next device nas been
to le&r the decrcaBe to the additional duties imposed on spirits, undoubtedlj
^ "" caiue, but not the exdosiTe mmiB, of the diminished ooniomption.
36 Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drinks.
To remedy some defects in tlie working arrangements of the
Forbes Mackenzie Act^ and especially to enable the police to
cope with the ' shebeen * nuisance, the ^ Public Houses Amend-
ment (Scotland) Act/ 25 & 26 Yic.^ c. 35^ was passed in tho
session of 1862.
No organized endeavour was made in England to retrieve
the ground lost in 1855, till the winter of 1862-3, when
the Hull Association for the Closing of Public-houses, un-
dertook the charge of a national agitation. In Liverpool
and other towns a canvass was undertaken by voluntary
committees, to ascertain the direction and pressure of
public sentiment, and in every such case the returns brought
to light a preponderance of opinion in favour of the prohuji-
tion of the sale of strong drink during the whole of Sunday.*
On the 17th of March, 1863,Mr. Somes, M.P., for Hull, moved for
leave to introduce ' A Bill for closing public-houses on Sunday/
the scope of which was to render illegal all sale of strong
drink between eleven o^clock on Saturday night and six
o'clock on Monday morning. Leave was granted on a
division of 141 votes to 32. On the 3rd of Juno the second
reading of the Bill was moved by Mr. Somes, and supported
by Messrs. Pease, Horsfall, Bainos, Lawson, Adderley, Newde-
gate. Hunt, and Sir H. Cairns. Speeches more or less
decidedly opposed, were made by Captain Jervis, Messrs.
Seymour, Clay, Martin, Packe, Berkeley, Sheridan, Sir S. M.
Peto, Sir J. Shelley, and Lord H. Vane. On a division, tho
second reading was supported by 103 votes, and resisted by
278, a majority of 1 75. Tho numbers, pro and con, were about
equally composed of Liberals and Conservatives. This exhibi-
tion of parliamentary sentiment oddly contrasted with the state
of public feeling, as represented by the petitions presented ; the
BiU being supported by 5,393 petitions, bearing 903,987
signatures, and opposed by 231 petitions, bearing 216,017
names. In the session of 1864 Mr, Somes moved for leave, on
tho 6th of May, to bring in a Bill to close all public-houses and
beershops between eleven p.m. on Saturday and six a.m. on
* A few particulars are appended. Lirerpool : For the total closing (housaholden)
44,149 ; againnt, 3,330 ; forelosing, except two hours, 6,4 ] 7 ; neutral, o,G39 ; total can-
Tassed 60,235 ; number of inhabited houses in Liycrpool, 65,8 14. St. Pancras Parish,
London: Total adults canyusfied, 53,324; favourable to entire closing, 26,541;
opposed, 19,014; neutral, 7,7t36. Sheffield: For total closing (householders),
13,152; against, 6,031 ; for boing open two hours, 613; neutral, 2.256; total can-
yassed, 22.052. Hull : The part canvassed being that where chiefly tho working
classes reside; for total closing, 11,428 ; against, 952. Kochdale : Houses canvassed,
4,700; adults favoarable, 10,456; unfavourable, 1,017; neutral, 1,719. BirkoD-
head : Workii^g men ^householders) favourable, 3,204; on theoontrarj, 186; other
danses favourable, l,3o6; on the contrary, 236.
Legislation on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Brinks. 37
Monday^ except between one and two and eight and nine on
Sunday. The motion was supported by Messrs. Pease, Clay^
and Horsfall, but opposed by Mr. Roebuck, Sir W. Jolliffe,
Sir G. Grey, and Mr. Packe, and leave was refused by 123^
votes to 87, a majority of 36. A Conference in Manchester^
held on the 26th of October, 1866, resolved on the promotion
of a ' Central Association for Stopping the Sale of Intoxicating
Liquors on the Sunday,' and ifrom that time to the present the
movement has been carried on with renewed energy, and with
a greater hope, perhaps, than at any former time, not only of
regaining what was filched away in 1855, but of procuring for
England the benefit of a measure resembling that which
Scotland has enjoyed since 1854. In 1867, Mr. J. A. Smith,
M.P., brought in a Bill to prevent the sale of alcoholic drink
for consumption on the premises during the whole of Sunday,
except where some article of food was sold in the present
legal hours ; and also to prevent the sale for consumption off
the premises, except between half-past twelve and half-past
two p.m., and between eight and ten p.m. This BiU was resid
a first time ; but the second reading, though repeatedly post-
poned, could never be discussed, owing to the pressure of
other business. During the session of 1867, 3,707 petitions^
bearing 407,307 signatures, were presented to the House of
Commons, 2,754 of which, with 301,235 names, called for the
stoppage of all sale of intoxicating liquors on Sunday. The
other petitions (953) and signatures (106,072) were in support
directly of Mr. Smith's Bill, the passing of which was opposed
by seventy-nine petitions, with 103,537 names.* On the
28th of November, soon after the opening of the session of
1867-8, Mr. Smith obtained the first reading of a Bill, to which
the names of Mr. Baines and Mr. Bazley were attached in
addition to his own, that somewhat differed from the measure
of the previous session. If passed, it would render illegal the
sale for consumption off the premises from half-past two to
*In the same aettion Major O'Reilly brought in a bill for Ireland resembling the
English Bill, except that the time of opening in the evening was limited to a single
hour, eight to nine, and not eight to ten. This Bill was to be read a second time, July
2nd, but the want of Gk>Temment support enabled its opponents to refer it to a Select
Committee, which was a virtual aefeat The case of Ireland is singularly hard.
PreWous to the passing of Mr. Serjeant Perrin's Bill in 1833 (3 and 4 William IV.,
0. G8), a penalty of £b was attached to the sale of spirits on any part of Sunday.
That bill legalised the sale of drink after two p.m. and until eleven p.m., and
became at onoe a fruitful source of misery and vice. The Corporation of Dublin
petitioned against it on that account in 1834. By their ecclesiastical influence the
Soman Catholic Archbishop of Cashel and Leahy and the Bishop of Ferns have
excluded from their diocese the sale of drink on Sunday, with the happiest results.
The petitions from Ireland in support of Major O'Beilly's Bill were 560, with
61,342 ngnatures, and in opposition to it only three petitions, with 4,625 names.
88 Legislatum on the Sunday Sale of Intoxicating Drmke.
eight, and from ten to twelve, thna permitting this kind of
sale three and a half hours in&tcNEkd of eight hours as at present^
while, as to sale for consumption on the premises, the prohi-
bition would be absolute, except that, within the Metropolian
Police District, anj person licensed to sell fermented or
distilled Kquors might sell them ' to a person lodging in his
house, or to travellers, or to persons bond^fde taking a meal at
his house during the time of such meal/ The Committee of
the Central Association and the Temperance societies lon^
engaged in the Sunday Closing agitation, have not concealed
their regret that Mr. Smith did not introduce last session, and
this, a measure of pure and simple prohibition of drinkselling
on the Sunday ; and they have determined, wisely, we thinks
to maintain their own platform, and to phrase their petitions
in accordance with the only issue whicm they can regard as
satisfactory to the country, and to the great social and moral
interests invaded by the Sunday liquor traffic. If Mr. Smith
finds that his expectation of winning Parliamentary support
• by the modified scheme he ofiers is not realised, he may pu^ue
a bolder policy, and commit himself to that popular breath to
which Cabinets and Parliaments are accustomed to defer.
This measure being avowedly not final, it may awaken as much
opposition fix)m the liquor vendors as though its terms wcn^e
more stringent ; and there is, at all events, good reason for
combined exertion, and a rivalry of personal effort, on the part
of all who desire to free their country fro^ the stigma attached
to it, by tolerating an open tap on the pearl of days when
trades the most harmless and useful are content to be at rest.
Since the foregoing was put in type, the debate on Mr. Abel
Smithes Bill, in the House of Commons, on March 18th, has
resulted in a formal second reading, with a resolution referring
it, and the whole question of the Sunday sale of intoxicating
liquors, to a select committee. The same course had been
previously adopted with Major O^Roilly's Bill for Ireland.
Such an inquiry, if thorough and impartial, is the greatest
boon that can be expected from a timorous parliament awaiting
its dissolution, and will lay the foundation for legislation in
advance of any that has been yet secured.
V .- . . ; ^ggj ,.. . ^.o,. . ■, r.
THE ADMINISTRATION OP THE POOR-LAW IN
THE METROPOLIS.*
PAUPERISM and poor-law administration have acquired a
notoriety of late that they are not likely soon to lose.
Two winters ago various disclosures were made, Indicating
much mismanagement on the part of the poor-law authori-
ties of the metropolis. The in-door management in the work-
house infirmaries was examined into by several gentlemen,
and this led to the introduction of Mr. Hardy^s bill of last
yewT, A no less important branch of the subject — ^the treat-
ment of the out-door poor — ^remams to be dealt with. It is
to this bi^anch of the subject that ' London Pauperism ^ is
mainly directed. The author has collated the results of exten-
sive personal experiences amongst the pauper class, and has
brought forward a mass of statistical information &om which
he has deduced his own conclusions. The whole is presented
in a very readable form/ and is worthy of a careful perusal.
The writer begins by describing the system of charity in
operation amongst the Jews, The greater part of his infor-
mation on this head is new to general readers, though the
liberality of wealthy Jews is well known^ and is attested by
many munificent monuments of charity in the Jewish quarters
of the metropolis, and the comparative happiness and comfort
exhibited in Jewish streets catmot have escaped the observa-
tion of any curious wanderer in his peregrinations through tho
^east end of London. The Jews have a Board of Guardians of
the Poor, which was established in the year 1859. Prior to
liat date private charity was eUtirejly relied on, and the
Jewish Board of Guardians is the result of the co-operative
union of aU Jewish charities, which are administered upon
enlightetfed and uiiiform principles. The immediate cause
which led to this organisation was the pressure put upon
the Various charities by a large influx of destitute Jews from
different parts of the continent. The organisation is a volun-
tary oue, and all Jews are expected to take part in the work
of chari^. The board appoints, for the details of work, ' the
Relief Committee,^ ' the Visiting Committee,' * the Work
* L$ndon Pauperigm amongst Jews and Christians, An inquirj into the prinoi-
ples and practice of out-door relief in the metropoliis, and the result upon the
moral and physical condition of the pauper elass. Bj J. H. Stallard. M.B.,
London ; Member of the Boval College of Physioians, London ; late Physician to
the Ghreat Northern Hospital, the St. George's and St. James's Dispensarj, &o. ;
•athor of 'Workhouse Hospitals/ 'The Female Casual/ &c., &o. London:
Banndera, Otley, and Co., 66, Brook-street, W. 1867.
40 Administration of the Poor Law in the Metropolis,
Committee/ and 'the Medical Committee/ The advantage-
of having a separate body of gentlemen to administer relief^
to visit houses and oversee the use made of relief, to appoint
and give out work, and to dispense medicines and medical aid^
will bo seen at a glance. Each case of distress must neces-
sarily be investigated by two committees, and in several cases
by three br all four of them. With respect to the work of the
Relief Committee, which ' is formed by three members of the
board, selected in rotation,^ Dr. Stallard says : —
* The casefl are not hurried oyer at the rate of two or three per minute, as al th9
Strand and Bethnal Green ; the object is not to save the pocket, but to reliera tb*
poor. What is the cause of destitution ? is the first question. Is it not suaoeptibla
of permanent relief? is the second. The nature of the distress is looked into
minutelj, and the applicant is only dismissed with an order for grocery and bread
when nothing else can be elTectually done. The test of destitution is applied b^
the board, and is not thrust upon the miserable applicant by an offer of the work>
house. Complete inyestigation is regarded as essential to efficient charity; and
the character of the applicant, and the nature of the distress haying been laia before
the board, eyery case is judged upon its merits, and relioyed, so far as the means of
the board permit, according to its deserts. The officers keep a complete record of
the particulars of eyery case and the relief which has been granted from time to
time. Imposition is all but impossible ; and if a few idle persons are now aad
then relieyed, the board do it with their eyes open, and with the conyiction thatf
idle as the applicant may be, he is suffering neyertheleis from want, and thtj
belieye that the small amount of charity will not be altogether thrown awaj.
When the board was first instituted, many attempts were made to impose upon its
generosity, but almost inyariably without success. Inquiry reyealed the impod-
tion, and ended in the refusal of relief. At that time l«*i^ per cent of the applica-
tions were positiyely refused; but now impostors rarely apply, and the refutala
haye diminished to 4*6 per cent. This shows conclusiyely that in the operations
of the committee a due regard is paid to the interests of the contributors to the
funds, and that the idle poor no longer seek to impose upon the kindness and
credulity of the board. Some record of refusals should also be kept by the officials
of the English poor-law. A pauper applies to the relicyine officer, and is sent
away without relief, and none of the circumstances are either reported or pre-
seryed ; eyen the Board of GKiardians should report refusals of relief, for they giya
some conception of the character of the poor, and, better still, of the care ana dia*
crimination which is exercised in their relief.'
Assistance is often given by the Jewish Guardians in the
shape of payment of rent, and of loans of money. The former
method of relief is prohibited by the poor-law, owing to the
abuse of it under the old poor-law system, which will bo
noticed presently. The latter is allowed, but only in casea
where the money might have been given outright, it being ih
the discretion of the guardians to declare that any relief
is administered by w^ay of loan. This, as Dr. Stallard points
out, is practically nearly the same thing as the total prohibition
of a loan of money, and, he asks, ' Why should not such a
system (i.e. the loan system,) be generally introduced ? Surely
it cannot be objected that the Christian poor are less honest
than the Jews I Surely, what the Jews do, we can do.^ And
he goes on to contrast the ^ English system,^ in ^ its miser-
Administration of the Poor Law in the Metropolis. 41
able and short-sighted narrow-mindedness^ with the wisdom
and philanthropy of the Jews/ This is a specimen of the com-
parisons which Dr. Stallard draws, with wearying repetition,
between what he is pleased to call the Jewish and the English
systems of relief. Yet, the cases are by no means parallel.
We are comparing, be it remembered, the administration of
the private charity of a sect with that of the necessary pro-
yision made by the country for its indigent poor. In the one
case the funds of a charity, in the other the proceeds of taxa-
tion, are being administered. It has been the opinion of some
men, that when the State undertook to make provision for her
destitute poor, she undertook a work not at all suitable to the
province of Government, but one which should have been left
to the operations of charity. Whatever be the merits of this
opinion, it is useless now to discuss the question, for here we
find the poor-laws in operation ; their existence is now a neces-
sity, and this being so, it remains to be seen what should be
the principles which should govern their administration. On
this subject Dr. Stallard quotes from the Eeport of the Poor-
law Commissioners the following apposite remarks with refer-
ence to the treatment of the pauper: —
0
' XJnlass the oondition of the pauper is, on the whole, less eligible than that of the
independent labourer, the law de8tro;f8 the strongest motiTos to good condact,
■teMj indusbr, proridence, and frugality among the labouring classes, and induces
'penoDB, hr idleness or imposture, to throw uiemselres upon the poor rates for
flopport. ^ut, if the independent labourer sees that a recurrence to the poor-rates
wul, while it protects him against destitution, place him in a less eligible position
than Uiat whieh he can attain b^ his own industry, he is left to the undisturbed in-
flomee of all thoee motiyee which prompt mankmd to exertion, forethought, and
lelf-deniaL On the other hand, the pauper has no just ground for complaint, if,
at the same time that his physical wants are amply proyided for, his condition
ihoold be less eligible than that of the poorest class who contribute to his support/
No one can doubt that the principle here enunciated is
economically correct. But then it runs in an- entirely different
groove from that of the principles of charity. The proper
effort of charity is to benefit and to raise the individual, and
to make his position as ' eligible ' as possible. The operations
of the Work Committee of the Jews well illustrate this. In
their very laudable and successful efforts to supply their poor
with the means of earning a decent livelihood, they have
adopted the plan of letting out sewing machines, the cost of
which is paid by the hirer in small weekly instalments, the
machine becoming his own property when its actual value has
been thus paid for. This is strictly a work of charity.
One of the economical results of it is that, ' for every machine
employed, ten feeble workpeople may be dismissed, have their
work cheapened, and their wages lowered.' ' Of coi
42 Administration of the Poor Law in the itetropolis.
Dr. Stallard says, ' all this ^ work of the Jews ' is impossible
and illegal under the poor-law sjstem. It is evident that the
Jews are stealing a march upon the Christians around them/
for so 'long as the principle of non-interference is strictly
carried out, the Christian poor must labour under the
greatest disadvantages/ No doubt they must; but this
IS an argument for the adoption of an extensive system
of Christian charity among the Christian poor, and it supplies
no reason why the poor laws should be strained from their
original and proper purpose, and made to do the work of
private charity. It does not oven follow that the same results
which attend the Jewish system would attend that system
when universally adopted. The Jews have a background of
Gtentile poverty with which they can compete, and on which
they fatten successfully. If this background were taken awajj
and, still more, if it wore bristling with competition, a veiy
different result might follow for all concerned. Dr. Stallara
anticipates this objection, but meets it only by the enunciation
of the general and unadopted rules of political economy. Hie
well-considered reasons which govern the main principles of
the poor law are so weighty and so sound that we must haye
arguments which rest upon stronger foundations than these
before wo consent to overturn them. A confusion between
the proper domain of charity and of the poor laws pervades the
whole of the book, and many of the suggestions in it will
consequently be found to be utterly impracticable. Thus the
labour of those gentlemen whom wo may be allowed to o^
the relieving oflBcers of the Jews is of course supplied volun-
tarily, and Dr. Stallard, laying great stress upon this, actually
recommends us to adopt the same plan in the administration
of the poor laws. Some little difficulties, it is true, suggest
themselves, in the form of human selfishness and a few other
trifles, but these Dr. Stallard gets over in a characteristic
way, by the consideration that a Christian is not more selfish
than a Jew, or at all events ought not to be so. If we mistake
not, the verdict of all practical men will bo unanimous that
such a system, even if desirable, is simply impossible.
In making his comparisons. Dr. Stallard is led into some
inaccuracies. With reference to expenditui'e he says : —
' We haye in round nambers £800,000 as the annual amount expended in relief by
the Metropolitan Poor Law authorities. Of this, only £.^30.000 reaches the badu
and stomachs of the poor, or is applied personally to their relief and maintenance^ all
the rest is disbursea in salaries, rations of officers, workhouse loans, and interests
and other expenses incidental to relief. Considerably more than a million of
money has been spent in building workhouses, and the interest, and the loans
repaid amount to i»4d,000 a year. The trustees of Islington are about to spend
jC70,000 in a new building, the mere interest of which would giye nearly sizpenoe
Administration of the Poor Law in tlve Mett'opolis. 48
I to erery pAuper in the parish. The salaries of workhouse and other officers
and their rations amount to i£ 103, 107 per annum, and other expenses to £118,180.
Altogether, administration costs forty per cent, and only sixty per cent, of the money
' ^laMl in the hands of the guardians goes for the purposes of relief, properly so called ;
and, after all, where are the advantages resulting from the costly workhouse system ?
1j^ one union 700 inmatea of all aees and characters ore huddled together, without
order, comfort, or classification of any kind whatever. Four paid ofilcers nuper-
intend them all, and lock them up at night At another, a feeble but unAucccssful
attempt is made at classification, and forty-fiye officers are employed to nurse and
Mipermtend lets than a thoHHmd inmates. If half the money Apsat in workhouses
liaa been judiciously expended in raising the standard of euueation and physical
eonfort amongst the body of the poor, pauperism had not increased 50 per cent.
a» it has done in the metropolis during the last seven years. And now let us
cgnmine the cost of administration under the Jewish system. The total expendi-
ture in the year 18C4 was, in round numbers, £3,070. The rent of premises
averages about iQ200 a year. The salaries of officers, including those of the
xaedi^ men, who find drngs, &o^ for the use of the sick, is J^oQG, and the cost of
advertisinff, stamps, and stationery, chiefly required for the purpose of raising the
necessary ninds, is under £150, so that we have a total of less tlian jE9<X) expended
in adminrstration, or about twenty-four per cent. If, instead of the expensive and
oomplicated worUioase machinery, we were to administer the English poor rates
on the system adopted by tlie Jews, we sliould at onoe effect a saving of £78,000
a year, — a sum more than sufficient to give every pauper, man, weman, and child,
threepenoe per week all the year round.
We have extracted the whole of this passage, in order to
pye Dr. Stallard the benefit of the effect produced by a com-
bined attack upon poor-law principle and poor-law practice,
aided bj complaints of the gross mismanagement and heavy
expenses of officials, and a lax statement of comparative
accomits, all jumbled together in confusion. Yet upon what
principle Dr. Stallard excludes the money spent in building
workhouflcs, and the '£48,000 interest and loans repaid^
tamually, from the sum which ^reaches the backs of the pooi*,'
we are unable to divine. Paupers must be housed as well as
clothed and fed. Dr. Stallard informs us that the Jewish
Boal*d of Guardians spend a certain amount of money in paying
the I'ent of their poor. Does he exclude these sums from the
leliof actually given to the poor> and include them in the 24
per cent, cost of administration f We presume not, in which
case the above comparison falls to the ground. It may
even be actually found that the Jewish administration is the
* more expensive of the two, and, but for the fact of the labour
of some of the Jewish administrators being voluntarily sup-
f^ed, it would appear in all probability that this is the case.
Be this as it may, it is beside the main question to inquire,
what the per centage cost of administration maybe. A low
per centage cost of administration might be owing to increased
paaperiam, or to want of care for the paupers. If we double
the number of the paupers, it will not follow that wo shall have to
'doable the cost of administering to their wants. On the
Htlier handj if we increase our care for the paupers, we may
44 Admmisiraiion of the Poor Law in the Metropolis.
have to increase the number of officers to look after them (i
would certainly have to be done in the case of the four officers
whose miserable position is described above), and, conse-
quently, the per centage cost of administration.
Having said thus much as to the difference between the
principle on which the Jewish charities are administered, and
that which should guide us in the administration of the poor-
law, we do not wish to be understood as endorsing the practice
of the poor-law system, or even all the principles enunciated
by the Poor-law Board. We have only attempted carefully
to draw the distinction between the theory of poor-laws
in general and that of charity.
We now come to the consideration of the practical working
of our present poor laws, and we are fully sensible that in
certain respects, and within the limits that we have sketched
out, a great many hints might well be taken from the
enlightened administration of the Jewish charities. Thns^
while for the reasons above given we should be compelled to
reject the system of lending money, which the Jewish Board
of Guardians carry out so successfully (according to the latest
report. Dr. Stallard informs us, it was estimated that ' only 3f
per cent, of these loans had been lost^), still we might well
take a hint from the Jewish system, and 'insist upon education
to the young as a preliminary condition to relief.' We shall
have a word or two more to say upon this subject later on.
Most valuable, too, is the boast of the Jewish guardians that
' instead of repressing and driving away the poor,' they do all
they ' can to tempt them to come for help before they are
completely pauperised.'
The system of education in the United States bears upon
this matter. There, in the great cities, an officer is actually
appointed to hunt out children, bring them in from the streets^
and compel them (under threat of imprisonment in a reforma-
tory) to attend the common schools. This system is found
most efficacious. In the same way, the Home for Homeless
Boys in this country has been instrumental in educating many
boys brought in by an officer especially appointed for that
service. The seeds of pauperism need to be taken out at the
earliest stage. Our object should be to prevent and forestal
pauperism, for, if once allowed to take root, we cannot get rid
of it, it will grow up in rank luxuriance in one form or
another.
It is here that our poor-law system most conspicuously
fails. Relief is too often given with so sparing a band
that temporary distress is turned into permanent pauperism.
This is a penny -wise-and-pound-foolish policy, the evil effects
Administration of the Poor Lww in the Metropolis. 4&
of which are xmfortunately not felt at the time the mistake is
committed. That, under it, pauperism is increasing with
alarming rapidity may be inferred from the fact, amongst
others, that the ' number of paupers relieved in the metro-
polis on the 1st of January, 1859, was 72,538, and on tho
same day in 1866, 111,019;^ while from the latest returns we
have the number relieved on the same day in 1867 given as
188,706. This is an increase of 90 per cent, in eight years.*
We are now feeling the ill effects of former maladministra-
tion, and, as the system is continued, the accumulations of
these evils are each year assuming more terrible proportions.
Dr. Stallard certainly brings a true bill against our poor-law
system in this respect. His description of the process of tho
allowance of out-door I'elief at Bethnal Green is, we fear, but
too true of most of our metropolitan unions : —
' The poor assemble,' he sajs, ' in a largo room, well warmed and admirablj
adapted for the purpose ; in fact, the buildine in whieh the guardians meet would
Ima to the supposition that relief was conducted on a noble scale. The board
loom if splendia, and fitted up with eyerj comfort ; indeed, these offices, which
hare cost £8,000 at the least, seem totally inconsistent with the surrounding
poTertT, and negative the idea that there is any real difficulty in obtaining monej
m>m the nitepajers. Each pauper is called before the board in turn, the relieving
officer reading rapidly his report of the case. Scarcely has the applicant appeared,
and often before be reaches the bar at which he is appointed to stand, he is pushed
oat of another door, with the order, *' Come here again to-morrow at nine o'clock ;"
■od he goes away utterly ignorant of what he is to get. The statement of the
Believing officer can, as a rule, be heard only by the chairman and vice-chairman ;
•nd only in ezoeptional cases does any other member of the board take part in the
proceedings. Now and then a discuasion arises as to a case of settlement, or as to
rdiering women with illegitimate children out of the workhouse ; but the amount
of relief it never discussed with a view to its efficiency, and is determined bv a
aoale the liberality of which may be described by the fact that, on the week ending
March 7, 1866, 1,481 individuals were relieved at a cost of £57 19». 3d., or rather
more than 9^. each for the whole week. Often the applicant makes a vain effort
to be heard, but there is no time for investigation. The whole proceeding is a
sham. The guardians leave investi^tion, such as it is, to the relieving officers ;
and it is generally understood that the poor can do nothing but tell lies and prac-
tice imposition, in order to obtain reliet.'
It should here be observed, in all fairness, that some of
these recipients of relief may not have been in total destitu-
tion : irregular labour, in some of these cases, helps to supply
a means of livelihood; so that we can hardly draw any positive
deductions as to the relief being insufficient in quantity, in
the case of every one of these individuals. But what shall
we say of the careful investigation into each case of destitu-
tion ? What discrimination can be exorcised here ? In some
cases the money spent will be worse than thrown away on
the idle and dissolute rogue ; and, what are the chances
that a respectable applicant will be relieved? Again, as
* 00e the latest report of the Poor-law Board.
46 Admimstraiion of ihe Poor Law in the MeiirapoU§J.
to the quantity of relief; in manj cases where this xeliBf
is given^ the familj is perfectly destitate ; as> for example, a
cases of sickness of the head of the femily on whom all an . '
dependent for their daily broad. What is to be done in sonh
cases with relief on the above scale 7 There ia oertoinly • •
better chance of dying on it than of living on it.
For the reasons above given^ and for various others, Ae *
amount of relief per head does not give us a perfectly acoimtB
notion of the working of tho system. But let us take an ex-
ample^ promising that it shall understate rather than exaggento
matters. Here is a family consisting of husband and wifig^ '
and four young children. Tlie father^ on whom all ore depen-
dent^ becomes sick, and the family is left perfectly destxtotei.
In some (we fear in too many) of the poorer unions, the valno
of the relief given to a family so circumstanced does nrt -
exceed, nay, does not come up to, 5s. per week, and there is
no provision for the payment of rent. Lotting this last mat^r.
alone, the sick man is to get well again, and his family are to be '
supported, on 5s. per wook. What are the chances of the man's ..
recovery ? And, supposing him to recover, what likelihood i
has his feeble half-starved frame of being able to do its naual
work ? What are tho odds of a relapse ? And, supposing thtf
poor wretch to die, what does his widow receiver In some
unions she gets two shillings por week and four loaves of bread ; -
and on this, (the widow^s scanty earnings being, in too man^ '
cases, barely sufficient to pay the rent), the children are to be
fed, clothed, and educated. Is the thing possible f What is the
result ? Education neglected, children half-starved, in rags, iti ,
filth, thus they all grow up unable to work through iraorancei
sickness possibly helping on the work of destitution. Sor
things go on from bad to worse, uutil, unable to fight the battle^
sooner or later all are taken into tho workhouse, there to cost
from 6s. to 7s. por week each for the rest of their lives. This
is no fanciful sketch : instances of the kind can be abundantly
supplied by those who know the poor. A false economy
pervades the an^angements of the poor-law guardians with
respect to out- door relief. We assert, without fear of
contradiction, that the system of minimizing the amount of
out-door relief which prevails in by far the majority of our
metropolitan unions, does not save tho rates, but, on the
contrary, accumulates a most extravagant expenditure upon
them. And then, to look deeper into tho subject, what does
it cost the country in disease, in corruption, and in crime ?" .
The statistics of this cost will never be published, for thc^ .
can never be known.
<In St. George'e, Southwtrk, there «re^' nya Dr. Stallard, *G46 children
Administration of iJie Poor Law in the Metropolis. 47
dependent upoD> widows, deserted women, single women, Or those whose husbands
are in gaoL Altogether there are 912 persons who haTe to liye without the
--~-^ of any adoU male helpmate, and the relief to the whole group is
£3i. 166. Id. per week, or exactly 9d. per head. Inquiries have just been com-
pleted by the reliering officers as to Uie earnings of women so placed, and the
srerage of the women is 3s. 7jd. each per week. Furthermore, nearly all the
childnan earn a little, which is estimated at 5j)d. each per week. Combining the
women and children together, the average earmngs amount to Is. 2d. per head per
week, so that the total income per head, including the parish allowance, is Is. 1 Id.
per week. But this estimate i» by no means of itself a fkir statement. The
number above named form 2C6 families, who must have at least a room each,
which, will average say, half-a-crown per week. The parish allowance, therefore,
barely pays the rent, and the women and children have to provide food, clothes,
firing, and every other requisite on Is. 2M, per head per week.
* & this one small parish there are 1,000 children who are not half fed, and
wiioae. mothers, have literally no mone^ to provide clothes and other necessaries.
That this process of stow starvation is common to the whole class of pamser
widows IS attested by all who are intimate with the habits of the poor. The
xnaatera and mistrsssos of ragged schools describe the children as cryins for
hunger, and as often falling from their seats from sheer exhaustion.' And Dr.
Stal^rd justly asks, 'Can anyone wonder that a woman should be driven to diss!-
patioA and immonlity by the daily ery of hungry children, whose wants no
amouat of labour will enable her to supply ? Under the present system the only
method of obtaining food and education is to desert the children utterly, in which
caae they would be sent to the admirable paupers' schools at Mitcham, where the
cost is lis. dd. each per week.'
In support of Ids assertions^ Dr. Stallard adduces many
examples^ detailing tlie treatment of individual cases of
■porertj in tlio various metropolitan unions. Readers con-
versant with poverty will recognise them at once as taken
from the drama of real life, and will agree with us that thejr
imperiously demand the careful consideration of all men of
education. One of the chief obstacles to poor-law reform is
the ready assent which the pubhc give to all the accusations
that are brought against the poor-law authorities. There is a
wide-spread belief that all guardians are hard-hearted ruffians,
that all workhouses are ^ black holes/ whore paupers are
locked up all their lives and kept at starvation point, and
that all relieving officers and workiiouse officials are impudent
rogues or cruel monsters. This feeling is not the result of
deliberate investigation, and is co-existent with the most
deplorable ignorance as to the actual working of the poor-
laws. Wo therefore hail the appearance of the book before
us as an aid in bringing to light facts which should be uni-
versally known.
In considering the poor-law question, it should always be
remembered that the mother of the poor-laws is sheer neces-
sity. They are not to be upheld on any other grounds. They
are not, strictly speaking, matter of charity ; they are merely
the result of a conviction that it is necessary in this country
to make provision for the destitute poor. It follows, that the
quantum of provision must be measured by the same standard
48 Administration of the Poor Law in the Metropolis,
of necessity, and hence, poor-law authorities ought not to be
required to do what it is not necessary to do, in furtherance
of the objects for which the poor-law is established. The old
notion, that the poor should be made as comfortable as
{Possible under the poor-law system, was sufficiently exposed
and refuted by the Poor-law Commissioners in 1834. Under
the former system, out-door relief was given as a rate-in-aid
of wages. Perfectly able-bodied labourers, well capable of
earning their own bread, had their rent paid by parish over-
seers. And this merely had the effect of reducing the wages
of the poor. Allowances were then given in aid of wages, and
a gigantic system of fraud and corruption sprang up, under
which the independent labourer actually stood at a disadvan-
tage, as compared with the pauper ; the farmers refusing to
employ those whom they were not compellable by law to
support. The main results of this were the inducing of well-
nigh universal pauperism among the labouring classes, whilst
the rates pressed so heavily on the land that, in the year 1832^
many lands were found to be actually thrown out of cultiva-
tion in consequence. As an instance of the state of things
then prevalent, we may cite the case of a parish in Leicester-
shire, the rates in which had risen to such an extent, that
there was * 'a general opinion that the day was not distant
when rent must cease altogether, and the (then) present
system must ensure, and that very shortly, the total ruin of
every individual of property in the parish.' To destroy this
system, vferv strong measures were needed. They were applied
by the Legislature, and the present poor-law system is the
result of the labours, and embodies the major part of the
suggestions of the Poor-law Commissioners. So far as the
destruction of the former system is concerned, this measure has
certainly been a success ; but so far as the treatment of the poor
is concerned, we have leaped from one extreme to the other, and
the prohibitory system now in operation is almost as bad as the
lax corruption of former days. Ill-judged parsimony has
taken the place of ill-judged prodigality, and has produced a
very similar result. Before the year 1834 there were but few
workhouses, and the use of them being entirely confined to
the aged and infirm, by far the greater part of the funds were
expended in the form of out-door relief. The commissioners
recommended the building of workhouses on an extensive
scale, and the application of what is called ' the workhouse
test' to all able-bodied poor on their application for relief;
* * Report of Poor-law CommissionerB, p. 65, quoted in the Enoyclopcedia
Britannica. Title: Poor-laws.
AdvUnistrqitian of the Foor Law in {he Metropolis. 49
iliat is to say^ tbey said to each applicant for relief^ ' If you
want relief, come into the honse/ Nor did this system stop
with the able-bodied ; for, the idea of a workhouse test once
baying been started, it became applied indiscriminately to all
•cleisses of poor. It was thus thought that the insolent beggar
would be thrown off unrelieved, and that only the deservmg
and really distressed would come in. At this stage, howeyer,
it was found simply impossible to continue this system. It
was discovered that, in many cases of temporary distress, the
able-bodied must be relieyed at home, and that as the work-
houses were full to suffocation, there was no longer any room
for all the sick and aged therein. Moreover, it was found that
many of these classes could be relieved at home at a less cost
to the rates than in the workhouse. The system was then
relaxed, and out-door relief is now supposed to be g^en in
caaea of temporary distress, sickness, loss of work, widow-
hood, and old age. But this relief it is entirely in the discre-
tion of the guardians to give or to refuse ; the system of ^ the
workhouse test ^ still remains, and many boards of guardians
use it most indiscriminately, applying it in circumstances in
which it should not be applied at all. Instead of giving the
poor sufficient relief in time, they refuse to give it, and thus
repel them, and, throwing this test upon them, drive them
to complete destitution, and thereby rear up generations of
paupers, the burden of whose support will rest upon future
ratepayers. The discretion of the guardians, with reference
to out-door relief, is apparently exercised in the most hap-
liazard way. It is utterly impossible to discover that it is
governed, for the most part, by any particular rules or princi-
ples. Relief will be given, and taken away, and given again,
without any apparent cause for the change. A man in regu-
lar wages ^vill be relieved for sickness for a few weeks, and
then, while he is still sick, the relief will be cut off, and he
will be 'offered the house/ We recollect a case of this kind.
A man in the regular employ of a railway company, earning
18s. per week wages, fell ill of rheumatism in the joints. He
became quite destitute, applied to the board of guardians, was
relieved for a few weeks during the winter, and then, just as
«pring was coming on, and the man was hoping for recovery,
relief was cut off, and he was ' offered the house.' Here pri-
vate charity stepped in, and within four weeks the man had
recovered, and was earning his full wages. What his chances
of recovery without such aid would have been, we leave our
readers to judge for themselves; but his recovery was cer-
tainly not due to his treatment by the poor-law authorities.
One cannot comprehend upon what principle the case was so
Vol. 11,— JVo. 41. D
50 Administraiion of the Poor Law' in the Metropolu,.
treated. K it were (k suitable one for relief at firsts the relief
should have been continued ; and if, on the other hand^ fb6
man was a fit subject for the house, he should have bees
'offered the house ^ at first. The guardians are actually guiltj
of the absurdity of relieving a man during the winter^ when
he cannot work, and they cut off the relief just as there is 4
chance of his recovery. This is the kind of thing that is
always going on, nor can we be surprised at it, when we coU'^
sider how little attention is paid to the circumstances under
which the relief is given.
The Poor-law Commissioners seem to have thought that
the offer of the workhouse furnished the parish officers ' with
an unerring test of the necessitous condition of the applicant/
and reUeved them ' from a painful and difficult responsibility,^
and they looked no deeper into the matter. We have now ta
1'udge of the result of the application of this test, and on this
Lead Dr. Stallard asks, and we think with truth, ^ Has this
unerring test sustained the ordeal of actual practice ? Does
it afford the public " the gratification of knowing that, while
the necessitous are abundantly relieved, the funds of charity*
are not wasted on idleness and fraud V " That, in the
administration of out-door relief, some general test should*
be appUed, no one at all conversant with the habits of the
Jauper class, will deny. The evidence brought before the
'oor-law Commissioners on this point is in itself conclusive.
But the workhouse test is one which simply excludes the
respectable and decent poor firom that relief which would'
keep them from becoming permanent paupers. To say^
to a respectable labourer, in temporary distress from sickness
or any other cause, ^ If you want relief, you can come into the
house, we will give you nothing out,' is preposterous. A
man in regular wages, unable to work for a few weeks, or it
may be, months, is asked to give up house and home, get rid
of all he has, and come into the workhouse. What chance
will he ever have of ever getting out again ? If he should
get out, he will have to begin the battle of life over again
from its very beginning. Can any one blame him if he begs
rather than go into the workhouse ? Nay, are not the rate-
payers very much indebted to him for so doing ? If, on the
other hand, the same test is applied to an insolent pauper, he
goes into the house readily enough, to be discharged in a little
time ; to him it is all the same, he is in and out as often as her
pleases, and he employs his time between — we will not enquire
how. When in the house, says Dr. Stallard, 'The master
sets him to some trifling work, which he muddles over or
neglects; and if the labour is greater than he chooses, her
Adminiriration of the Po§r Law in iJis Metropolis. 51
takes Ills dinner, and gives tliree hours' notice to leave the
house/ and in a day or two ' he will return to his parish for
relief^ and be admitted to the workhouse as before. At
Greenwich such a case was/ he says^ ' pointed out to him^ as
liaving been admitted and discharged many hundreds of times
in the course of the last year or two^ without any other effect
than entailing endless trouble upon the officials^ and con-
taminating the whole establishment with his incorrigible
idleness/
We must acknowledge the fact that, for many purposes,
the workhouse test has completely failed. The test we would
wish to see applied is that of respectability, of education, and
of cleanliness. We do not mean that we would exclude
from relief those who were not able to show a clean bill in
these matters, but we would make these things necessarily
go hand in hand with relief. Our object should be, whilst
supplying necessary relief, to save the rates, and to diminish
Eauperism. To secure these ends we must insist upon clean-
ness in the pauper's home, and upon the education of the
pauper's children. These conditions should be strictly
enforced. Their irksomeness to the drunken vagabond would
be excessive, whilst, to the respectable poor, there would be
no hardship in them. In the workhouse these conditions are
enforced, and they ought to be so out of it. It has rightly
been observed by Dr. otallard, that no paupers are sent from
the paupers' schools. Paupers are the children of helpless
widows with families of young children, who are relieved, as
in Whitechapel, at the liberal rate of from one to two shillings
per week, and one loaf of bread for each child. If the rate-
payers were only fully alive to the accumulations of pauperism
that are bred here, if the country, if the legislature were
fully sensible how extensively seeds of crime are fostered
here, the system would not be allowed to go on for a single
day.
Dr. Stallard extracts from the report of the Poor-Law
Board the fact that there were relieved on the 1st of January,
1866, in thirty metropolitan unions, having a population under
2,000,000, no fewer than 5,539 widows, having 13,615 children
under sixteen dependent upon them, and that the estimated
number of children thus situated for the whole metropolis
was 18,300. It is impossible, as he points out, to estimate
from this statement what may be the real number of widows
and children actually dependent upon the rates ; for, although
we may assume that the average number remains the same
the individuals are constantly changing. According to Dr.
Stallard's calculations, the actual number of children under
52 Administraiian of the Poor Law in the MetropolU.
the above conditions^ who are relieved during the jear^ would
be about 60^000 ; and he estimates^ taking all clasaes toge-
ther^ that there are in the metropolis no fewer than ' 150^000
children whose parents are in a state of chronic indigence
requiring occasional relief/ Bearing in mind the nsual scale
of relief^ it must appear clear that the greater number of the
widows at least cannot pay for the education of their children,
and that many^ if not a great majority, of the other clasBee
must be in a like predicament. Yet there is absolutely no
provision made by the legislature, or the poor-law authoritieSj
for the free education of these children. Here, then, in the
metropolis of our ' most Christian country,' in the centre of
civilisation, and under the wing of our humane and Christiaa
laws, many thousands of children are being brought up with
no further provision for their education than the efforts of
private charity such as ragged schools and kindred institu-
tions are able to make. Instead of marvelling at the exhibi-
tions of youthful depravity, the wonder should be that we
have not more wickedness and crime. We must not persuade
ourselves into the belief that these things can be safely
allowed to go on. The evil is assuming such formidable pro-
portions that we are left no choice in the matter, we must
either grapple with it or succumb to it.
This is not the first time that the mal-administration of the
poor-laws has threatened great danger to the country. Under
the former system the poor were idle and depraved ; nor was
this the worst form of the evil. In the year 1832, durinflr
"aperiod of great prosperity, we find that portion of Enghm£
in which the poor-laws had had their greatest operation, and
in which by much the larger expenditure of poor-rates had
been made, the scene of daily riot and nightly incendiarism.'**
Meanwhile, the condition of the independent labourer was
deplorable in the extreme. This state of things had existed,
with more or less intensity, during the greater part of the
reign of Greorge III., and the matter seriously engaged the
attention of the Legislature during the administration of Mr.
Pitt. In the year 1796, and in two succeeding sessions of
Parliament, Mr. Whitbread brought forward a biU, the object
of which was to fix the minimum rate of wages throughout the
country. The bill was supported by the leader of the opposi-
tion, the celebrated Mr. Fox, and was opposed by Mr. Pitt in
a full, clear, and conclusive speech. At the same time, Mr.
Pitt t gave it as his opinion, that the administration of the
* < Enqy«lopoDdift Britumica.'
t See * FarlUmenUry Debates,' Vol 32.
Administration of the Poor Law in tlie Metropolis. 53**
poor-laws was responsible for the deplorable condition of tlie
poor ; and lie considered that it was necessary to bring it back
t o principles more in conformity with the original object.
He made a variety of suggestions and comments^ many of
which are in unison with the plan actually adopted nearly 40
years afterwards by the Poor-law Commissioners. One part
of Mr. Pitt's scheme^ which he put into the form of a Bill,*
though it was never actually before the House, was the
establishment of schools of industry throughout the country.
In them the children and able-bodied paupers were to be
taught trades, and thus put into the way of earning their own
livelihood. The scheme, Mr, Pitt informs us, was fortified by
the authority of no less men than Sir Matthew Hale and Mr.
Locke. Well had it been for the country if it had been
adopted. There is no doubt that Mr. Pitt saw far into the
fatmre ; he perceived beforehand the accumulations of pauper-
ism which unchecked ignorance was to bring upon the country ;
he went straight to the root of the evil ; icQeness and igno-
rance, he tells us, were the origin of the disastrous state of
things then ; and surely they are the origin of a disastrous state
of things now. The greater part of Mr. Pitt's speech would
be equally applicable to the present, as to the then state of
things. He mi^ht have been speaking to-day instead of 70
years ago, and his enlightened suggestions should yet be
considered. But what has become of all this valuable scheme ?
"Where is the provision for the industrial school ? The work-
house is the school of industry : unavoidable idleness is its
chief feature. Let us look at the waste of human life and
energy ; let us walk up and down the long dreary wards ;
observe the listless faces of the inmates; count their numbers ;
ask their histories ; and then come to the conclusion, if we
can, that the country is doing the best it can for the poor.
Whilst we advocate an amended system of out-door relief,
we do not wish to be understood as advocating the giving of
relief in this form only, and the abolition of workhouses.
The workhouse is in many cases the best and the proper form
of relief; but we would have guardians of the poor make a
careful investigation into each case, that is brought before
them, and make the relief sufficient for the purpose for which
it is intended. The scale of relief is now, as we have shown,
too often so low as to be a mere mockery. Whilst agreeing
heartily with what Dr. Stallard says on this head, we think he
stretches the point too far, for he seems to launch out into a
crusade against all workhouse relief whatsoever. We cannot
* Aa to heads of lir» Pitt's bill, see Appendix to * Eden's State of the Poor.'
54 Administration of the Poor Law in the Metropolis*
and do not complain of a genuine offer of tlio asylum of the
workhouse to poor who can best be relieved in that way. The
duty of guardians is twofold, — to do their very best for ihe
poor and for the ratepayers. The indictment we bring against
them is, that they apply the workhouse test not as a genuine
offer of relief, but in order to cast off and repel the poor; and
we say that in so doing they are neglecting their duty both to
the ratepayer and to the poor. The poor are too often, to use
their own language, ' threatened with the house,' and if the
needy were to accept the offer, the ratepayers would plainlj
perceive the neglect of their interests. As it is, the neglect
of the interests of the poor is, in most cases, the only neglect
apparent. But this state of things most assuredly tells npon
the rates in time, for nothing can be clearer than that, if we
keep needy families in destitution, we shall breed pauperism.
Dr. StaUard, whilst showing the large increase of pauperism
of late years, brings out another very ugly fact, namely, that
in the poorer unions the relief per head has been gradually
decreasing, very much in the same proportion that the number
of paupers has been increasing. He gives us^ in a tabular
form, the statistics of Poor-law administration in St. George's,
Southwark, in which the two facts appear side by side. We
might, from this, estimate that in 22 years, from 1843 to 1865,
the amount of relief has been halved, while, at the same time,
the amount of pauperism has been doubled, as has also the
annual expenditure. The chief cause for the diminution of
the amount of relief appears to bo the pressure of the rates
in these unions. The separation between the east and west
of London becomes every day greater. The poor congregate
in one end, and the rich in the other. In the poorer unions
the poor are left to take cai*e of themselves, and, in many
cases, those who are themselves but one step above the pauper
class are impoverished by the payment of very high rates.
Things move in a vicious circle; as pauperism increases, rates
increase, whilst ability to pay the rates diminishes and con-
sequently the amount of relief diminishes also. Dr. Stallard
draws attention to this matter, and his remarks on it are very
just. Perfect equalisation of the poor-rates all over the
metropolis is, he shows, a necessity. One difficulty, above
all others, presents itself on this branch of the subject.
Granted a general equal rate, what provision shall be
made for its administration ? Will the ratepayers of Pad-
dington consent that their funds should bo administered by
the guardians of Whitochapel and Bethnal Green ? We think
not. Dr. Stallard boldly faces this question, and his sugges-
tion is this, that there should be a paid and responsible
executive : —
AiminiiifraMon of th^ Poor Law in tJi^ Metropolis. 55
* A small reprMentaiiTe centrul hoard, presided OTor bj an inspector of the
IPobr-law Boara, aa the lieutenant of the poor-law minister. The nnmber of thii
board abonld be limited, to fix the responsibility upon the indiyidual members, to
make it stronff in administratiye power, and to give it e£BoieDt control oyer all the
local authorities, whether paid or otherwise. Tne board should have a paid eecre-
tai7, medical officer, ana architect ; and its duties and expenditure should be
drmned and controlled by the president of the Poor-law Board and the auditor
whom be appoints. In the next place this board must divide London into a suffi-
cient number of districts for the administration of out-door relief, placing each
district under the control of a poor-law magistrate, who shall occupy the same
nlation to poverty as the stipendiary magistrate does to crime. The oases are
parallel ; the remedy should be the same.'
Bnt tliis 18 begging the whole question. Are the cases
parallel ? Historieally they are not, socially they are not, and
we are at a loss to know in what respects they are. All social
questions are 'of the deepest importance/ all 'involve the
prosperity, happiness, and moral condition of every class,'
and, of course, every difficulty of administration needs 'the
liighest administrative capacity for its successful management.'
The proposed new magistrate would be directly responsible to
the central board ' for the efficient relief of the poor, and the
judicious expenditure of the rates,' and Dr. Stallard thinks
that 'with a responsibility thus positive and direct there
would be ample guarantee that the duties would be carried
out to the satisfaction of all ratepayers, both rich and poor.'
The duties, however, would be somewhat perplexing, for the
magistrate would 'be directed to put himself in association
with local philanthropy and charity, the resources of which
are to be exhausted before the public funds are infringed
upon.' We must confess we should not envy the position oi
ihis official. He is to be mixed up with the jealousies of local
4;harities, and the reformed administration of the poor laws
is to be ushered in by directing its officer to forage up the
proceeds of local charity before he proceeds to touch the
compulsory rates with which he is appointed to deal.
Whether this scheme, even if it could be carried out, is
likely to forward Dr. Stallard's professed object of inducing
A 'uniformity in the administration of out-door relief, and
a proper consideration for the wants of the poor,' we leave
our readers to judge for themselves. What is to be done
with the present Boards of Guardians, we are hardly able to
make out. It is not proposed ' to abolish them as they already
.exiBt.' They are to meet weekly as they do at present. They
are to be a ' board of real guardians of the poor,' who are to
^sympathise with their distresses, and speak out for them
when they are too sensitive to expose their wants.' They are
^ to co-operate with the magistrate ;' and thus, ' acting harmo-
niously together, the Board of Guardians and the poor-law
magistrate will inform each other of the duties they respec-
■■■.■*
56 AdrrUniitration of the Poor Law in the Metropolis*
tiyely nndertake. The one will recommend and the other wB
have power to provide all that the poor require/ We do Bofr
propose to weary oar readers by pointing out the extraVa.
gances of this scheme, bat we have a word to say wiih
reference to the proposal for the appointment of a poor-law
magistrate. It is the favoarite remedy in our days for eveiy
abase to appoint a stipendiary, a 'responsible officer,' an
inspector, whose business it is to see that the abase ia no
longer carried on. We pay these officers good round salaries,
and then we imagine that the abuse is at an end. Yet we
appeal to experience to say whether this method has invari-
ably proved a success. What do our inspectors of nnisancds
do, at least in the metropolis ? Even in this very matter of
the poor-laws, what has the poor-law inspector been about, di
these years ? How came it that the abases lately made pnblio
in workhouse infirmaries sprang up under his very nose?
There is more money wasted by the country on inspectors and
sub-inspectors than we care to inquire. It is always assumed
that an inspector is an intelligent man who is sure to do his
duty. If this were so, we should not hear of the abuses we
see now.
The Poor-law Board must undertake a more direct super-
vision of all the local authorities in the metropolis. For this
purpose it must appoint competent inspectors, as, indeed,
within the last few months it seems to have been doing. All
this is a necessity; but let us go no further. We cannot
approve of the scheme for the appointment of a poor-law
magistrate ; for although we do not believe, with Dr. Stallard,
that volunteer agents could' be found who would act satis&c-
torily as overseers of the poor, and look after the minor details
of relief, still we do believe that there are many persons both
willing to act and capable of acting as guardians of the poor.
They fail now, it is true ; and why ? One reason is that the
law asks them to perform impossibilities. ' There are,' says
Dr. Stallard, ' at the present moment considerably more than
6,000 persons in the receipt of relief from the Greenwich Board
of Guardians. Upwards of 800 cases have to be considered
weekly. The board divides itself into two sections, and works
hard and rapidly for more than three hours.' What wonder that
' entire absence of consideration is shown towards the circum-
stances of the applicants I' Put the guardians in charge of
districts that they can manage, of parishes instead of unions,
of districts sub-divided into workable portions, and we believe
they will be found capable of performing the work. Another
cause of the failures of the guardians lies in the personnel of
which the boards are for the most part composed. But whose
Awii InicnHa^s Experience in Limited LiahilHy. 57
&nlt is tliat ? We cannot pass an act of Parliament to compel
tihe rich^ the intelligent^ and the educated to come forward to
met as gnardians of the poor. Under these circomstances it is
.liardly good taste to rant about guardians being ' pettj shop-
keepers'' and so forth^ however much we may deplore that
such is the fact.
As the principle of the unions of parishes must^ for most
purposes, be overturned by an equalization of the rates, there
cannot be any objection to going back to a system similar to
the old parochial system for the purposes of administration.
The fimd derived from the equal rates must necessarily be
collected under the direct supervision of the Poor-law Board,
winch will have to make its allowances to the guardians of the
different districts and parishes ; and the local jealousy which
one union might have of the administration of its funds by the
guardians of another, would dwindle to a minimum and cUsap-
pear, when the particular funds could not be traced. We
claim for this plan the merit of feasibility. Let us adhere to
the principle of local government as long as possible, assured,
as we are, that it is far more economical, and that, in the
particular case of the administration of the poor-laws, the local
knowledge brought to bear, even by 'petty shopkeepers,' is of
greater value than at first-sight may appear. Another
consideration, which should make us hesitate before appointing
' stipendiary officers, is, that when we are once saddled with
them we can never, if we wish, come back to the voluntary and
Honorary system.
The whole subject of the administration of our poor-laws is
clouded over with difficulties, which, to a thoughtful mind,
make the consideration of it most interesting ; more especially
as the daily increasing importance of the subject, from what-
ever point of view we hke to look at it^ can hardly be
exaggerated. It is to be hoped that a reformed parliament
will give its earnest attention to the matter ; but we hardly
venture to anticipate that this will be the case, before the public
shall be aroused from its apathy on the subject.
AUNT LUCRBTIA'S EXPERIENCE IN LIMITED
LIABILITY.
'T'HEIIE are many lovely places around the town of 0-
J. which, big as it is, and dirty as it is, has managed to rise
np, like a great unsightly mushroom, in the midst of a country
of much natural beauty ; and by its collieries and drains to
58 Aunt Lucretia*8 ExperienGe in Liimted LiabilUy.
plongh np and defile green pastures centuries old^ and sparkling
streams older still. ^ God made the ooontry and man made
the town ' was often in my mind^ when^ clear away from ths
smoke and dust^ I had gained some heathy knoll or swelling
pasture^ and looked backwards and downwards on the brick*-
and-mortar fungus that grew so rapidly^ and threw out ite
spawn of collieries and cottages so plentifully on all sideSj as
rejoicing in its strength and fertility. But that great fungus^
strange to say, had work to do of a tolerably noble kind — and
did it— and the great sky over head that was perhaps weary of
looking down so long upon the unbroken quiet of grass, and
trees^ and budding daisies^ in the self-same spot for ages,
smiled upon the dirty town and received its smoke into its bosom
not ungraciously, trying to arouse in it some sense of fitness azid
beauty by the sight of its own ever-changing clouds, that,
formed of the most shapeless and ragged materials, contriTed
nevertheless to look admirable and beautiful.
Yes, the town had work to do, of a black, grimy sort,
mostly, digging deep down into the earth for materiak for
light and warmth, a strange backward way of proceeding whilst
there were the bright sun and the clear atmosphere from whick
to procure them and store them, so much more easily, as it wonld
seem ; yet, after all, a necessary sort of way for the times in
which we live, and the half-knowledge of things and uses that
we possess. At first, the digging down had been so imperatiTO
that the opposite process of building up had been little attended
to, and rows of rough miners^ cottages, shaky and ill built,
were all that were thought of, and people housed above as they
could, that they might work below all the more. But in forty
years or so, which was the time that 0 had been pro-
gressing from a sleepy village among elms and buttercups, to
a great straggling town among coal-pits and steam-engines,
there was money enough and there was time enough to think
of something better ; and, gradually, houses that had been
put together by a journeyman bricklayer, and then contrived
by a builder, came to be designed by an architect, and to
assume important and well proportioned aspects. So as C
promised to build with the years more and more houses of this
kind, and churches and chapels also, an architect naturally
took up his abode in it^ opened an office, furnished with
tables, and drawing boards, and plans of churches and pub-
lic halls, furnished also with one or two young men to sit at
thesesamo tables and use the square, and the rule, and the
compasses, and produce grand elevations and elaborate, if not
strikingly new, ' details.^ This architect's work was part of
the tolerably noble sort of work that I said before was performed
Aunt Lucretia's Experience in LimUed LiaMlUy. 59
at C ; and, as I was ono of the workers, I may perhaps
he allowed to say, that two of us, — Cornelius Haythorn and
myself, Anthony Crocket, with the help of our master, did as
much as in us lay to improve and beautify the overgrown,
rambling, smoky town in which we dwelt. I liked my work,
and my work liked me, for from a small pale lad of fifteen,
rather given to grumbling, I was growing up into a decent
sized youth of nineteen or thereabouts, with healthily coloured
cheeks, and a cheerful temperament.
I said that there are many lovely places around the town of
C . One of these was always pleasant enough in my eyes ;
it was in the centre of a tiny hollow, not worth styling a valley,
so I will call it a dimple of green land, that came upon you just
as you entered the last twist of a spiral lane that had ' natural
selection ' enough in it to wander in and out among the fields
as though to see what each of them was made of. Here,
in this (fimple, under the shadow of a couple of sycamores,
and under the shelter of a high-pitched roof with dormer win-
dows of a particularly drowsy aspect, lived my maiden aunt,
Lucretia Crocket, and it was my delight once or twice a week
on summer evenings to stroll out after tea from C , and
putting my head under her roof-tree, to sit talking with her
of my office, and my prospects in life, not very bright ones at
present in the money way, or of her office and her prospects
in life, or rather possessions. Her office I did not consider
quite so important a one as my own, — ^but then it was a
thousand times more cheery and snug. Not that we were not
thoroughly respectable and that sort of thing, at Mr. Palladio
Plumber's ; our office desks and tables were models of
architectural propriety, not to say luxury; our floors were
matted as thickly as a church aisle, and our walls were hung
with framed perspectives of vast orphan asylums large as
palaces, and of grandly spired and windowed churches, not
like Melrose Abbey to be seen but by moonlight, but courting
the broadest of daylight to display their pictured fairness of
proportion, the clever drawing of Plumber, Haythorn, and
Crocket. But I am not now writing of our office; I am writing,
or intending to write of Aunt Lucretia's little drawing room,
with its modem bay window facing the midsummer sunset,
and its muUioned early English ditto, letting in the noonday
brightness — though I did not see it much at these times.
When I usually came to it, early shadows were stealing over
the dimple in which it stood and across the garden, and shut-
ting up the eyes of the dormer windows, and sending the birds
to bed in the ivy that clustered about its north gable, and
giving the ' elevation ' generally an air of repose and hush
60 Aunt Ijucretia^B Evperience in Limited LiahUUjf.
that I rather liked^ especially as it helped to conceal one or
two notable defects of the old house^ where a former ambitioiit
proprietor had tried to castellate and wing an otherwiae
interesting gabled cottage. I was once savage enough to Baj
that I should have liked to have winged him with my doiiblfr>
barrelled rifle^ when he did it. Castellate a gabled cottage I
Think of the enormity I When I went inside^ I was almost sotb
to find Aunt Lucretia peacefully knitting in her arm chair at.a
huge counterpane that she intended to give to my mother to
put on her best bed — ^it was exactly like one she had on her
own^ which had been my mother^s admiration for yean,
excepting the border^ which was after a design of imne from
an antique guillochis. On my entering the room sue would
raise her head^ smile^ and ask how J was^ bid me be
seated^ and after a quarter of an hour's backward and forward
talk, now of past times and now of prospects, she would
say, looking towards an open book on the table, ' I think we
left off where Ulysses met Nausican, or where Quentm
Durward arrived at Liege with the Countess ; or where Adam
Bede heard his father^s ghost at the door' — ^whichever it
might be ; and I would lift up the book and read to her for an
hour or so, while she knitted quietly at the guillochis, or laid
down her work to listen the better, when a passage of great
interest occurred. After the reading, came supper, and a
pleasant talk over the meal, interspersed with anecdotical
reminisceuQes of the day by me, which sometimes made her
laugh, and sometimes cry out in astonishment, either result
being equally delightful to me. To make Aunt Lucretia
think me and my compeers at the office, or elsewhere, the most
wonderful young men that ever existed, was, I am afraid,
rather too tempting a task for me. After supper, I had a
walk back by moonlight or starlight, and sometimes by no
light, but by a thick soundless darkness that was only curiouflj
not disagreable, since I knew every inch of the road home to
Mr. Plumber's. Now and then I was able to get to Aunt
Lucretia's earlier, on a Sunday, or at some holiday, when I
would be invited to tea, and then we had a walk together, she
and I, through her garden, and then she would describe to mo
every flower and shrub, with its time of immigration and
history since, and with an absorbed love for each that made
her sometimes forget that I might not care as much for a
marigold as she did. When the garden had been gone throueh
we would walk across fields and lanes to the church on the
hill, — not C church, but one much older, with the
chancel window full of glorious old stained glass, with Norman
pillars and arches in the nave, and with a beautiful gothic
Auni LuereUa* 8 Experience in Limited Inability. 61
porch. Abont tliis old clmrch we would i^alk^ or Aunt Lucretia
would Bit on the atile^ or under the great yew tree^ while I
would sketch bits of its exterior^ and talk to her the while of
my architectural hopes — ^how I expected to build churches
some day, as beautiful as this might have been in its first days
of perfection; how I should become famed, sare money enough to
fo abroad — ^to Belgium and Italy, there to study for still higher
onours and achieyements. My visit to Italy was always the
last converging point of my dreams and hopes. I must get
£une and money first, for, alas I I had no money, absolutely
none, to begin the world with. And Aunt Lucretia would
say gently, but rather sadly, ' All in good time, Anthony — all
in good time I perhaps the way will come for you to go
abroad; if not, you must struggle upwards as so many have done
before you.' That was true, and I was prepared to struggle.
When Mr. Plumber and I were free of each other, I was to go
to a London office, and take a situation for improvement, for
some year or two, and then — ^what ? — One of those strange
but fortunate chances would be sure to befall me, as they had
befallen all men who had risen, and I should be able to swim
on my own account on the great ocean of life, buoyant and
successful, of course. This was what hope said, but hope
did not always speak, and when doubt came, the weight that
brought down hope's shuttlecock as surely as ever it was sent
up — doubt told me quite another story. Want of money with
doubt, meant want of patrons ; want of opportunity for the
display of talent, want of talent itself, perhaps : want of every-
thing desirable for a young architect on commencing the
world. And as I spoke to Aunt Lucretia without let or
hindrance, and just as natumlly and as wildly as I would, the
tales doubt told, went to her ear, as surely as the hopes, and she
learned to sigh for me and with me. She was ready to
sympathize with me at all times and on all occasions.
I had another Aunt, a widow, who was not so ready. It is
true that in conjunction with Aunt Lucretia she had found the
money to article me to Mr. Plumber, and to her I was indebted
ibr half my pocket-money, but I should as soon have thought
of talking confidentially to my drawing-board about my future,
as of doing so to Aunt Kezia. I once, indeed, named Italy to
her in one of my moments of abstraction, but was quickly
roused by the scornful exclamation of ' Travel to Italy —
Cobwebs P by which I knew at once and for over that she
utterly repudiated the notion, and would have none of it. Now,
where other people would say ' Pish I ^ and ' Pshaw,' Aunt
Kezia always said ' Cobwebs,' an expression she had gathered
in her life-long warfare with those untidy adjuncts to the
62 Aimt Lucretia's Experience in Limited LiabiUiy^
interior of a house. I can safely say that such a tlung new
had time to be woven in her primly kept mansion^ — a spidc*
and-span new brick house, with square front, ditto bade and
sides, Venetian blinds and patent shutters, a mile or two forthflr
out from C ^than dear Aunt Lucretia's, so that I had a
good excuse always ready for my seldom visits ; — ^but still, the
word 'cobweb' was ever at hand to be employed with witheN
ing emphasis when she met with anything obnoxious to her
ideas of propriety and iright. At my mother's, let me whisper
it, we sometimes called Aunt Kezia, Aunt Cobwebs — (she
never reads magazines, so that she will not see this confession)
and it is no wonder i^at we were tempted to do so, for she
thought us both cobwebby enough, and did not hesitate to
say so. But Aunt Lucretia received more than her due shan
of the appellation; her open, unsuspicious, sympathizinff
nature was exactly the reverse of the shrewd, cautious, cola
temperament of Aunt Kezia, who thought every man a foe, 'till
she had proved him to be a friend, just the reverse of Aunt
Lucretia, who was ready to see a friend in every face 'till she
found to her cost, over and over again, an enemy or a wron^
doer.
One quiet dewdroppy evening in May, I was, as usual, OIL
my way to the cottage in the dimple, and with me I had a.
rather formidable looking roll of ' double Elephant,' which I
carried in my right hand with a comfortable feeling that ife.
looked professional, and which contained on its inner side an
ambitious design for a church, thought out and executed hy
myself in my leisure hours. It was a master piece of a church,,
in my opinion, and had several very striking features about it,,
quite original ones, and had niches and statues enough dia^
tributed over its exterior to give it a very rich and relieved
air. I was taking it to Aunt Lucretia, that she might judffo
from her own observation of what her nephew was capable,,
and that she might once more echo with mo the wish of mj
heart — Italy. I had just read the ' Stones of Venice ' in a
fever oLenthusiasm. I wsmted to see those ' stones,' and to
compare them with my church, so fair aud glorious on paper,
which I fondly thought would not quite shame Venice even,—
but how could I truly tell that, unless I went to see ? Swing-
ing-to the garden gate and striding joyfully over the garden
path, I entered the well known house, impatient tiU I could
spread out my plan before one who, I felt sure, would appreciate
both it and me. Aunt Lucretia was in her usual easy chair,
but instead of her knitting, she had in her hand a large printed
paper, which she seemed to have been attentively perusing.
She put it down as I came in, and her eyes were brighter,.
AiuU LuereUa's Experience in Limited Liahiliiy. 63
and her cheeks redder than asoal as she looked at me benevo*
lentlT over her spectacles, and said, ' Well — ^Anthony/ My
oheeKS too were redder than their wont, bnt it was with the
pleasurable excitement I felt at the prospect of showing her
jny design. She glanced a moment at the long roll of paper
in my hand, and then said, ' You have a paper, too, I see.
Well, my dear, we will look at yours first, and then you shall
Bee mine.' So I spread out the great sheet of paper, and
waited silently to receive her commendations. 'Is that
drawing aU yours, Anthony V ' Yes, Aunt, every line of it.'
'Wonderful I Beautiful I ' were her exclamations. 'My dear,
yon will be a great architect some day.' ' Do you really think
BO, Aunt T Ah, if I could only go to Italy ! ' Aunt Lucretia
tamed her glance from the paper to myself, and said, half
dreamily, as If talking to herself, ' That may not be impossible
after all — ^thirty-two and a half per cent, would do it,' and
then in a louder wide-a-wake tone, ' K I live, Anthony, and
all is well — ^you shall ^o the year after next.' ' Me, Aunt ?
Go to Italy ? ' I asked m my joyful surprise, scarcely able to
believe I had heard aright. ' Yes, you, Anthony ! Why not ?
As I said before, thirty-two and a half per cent, would do it.*
And then smiling as she saw my look of bewilderment at her
laBt words ' You don't understand me, I see. Come then,
leave your own plan for a little while, and listen to mine. It
is a very important one, though it does not at first sight look
BO attractive. But first, you know what Limited Liability
is?' ' Yes, Aunt, it is ;'
^Now I like Limited Liability,' said my Aunt, going on
without waiting for my explanation. ' It is just suited for such
people as myself — ^people with small incomes, who could not
afford to lose much, and yet who want to increase their
incomes in a legitimate way. All that I have, is, as you know,
Anthony, invested in the three-per-cents.; seven thousand
pounds — a nice little sum, if it were out at better interest,
which I've long wished it could be, but never had the oppor-
tunity 'till now. Now a wise and paternal government has
Been this want, and provided a way by which people like my-
self may have the advantage of embarking in trade without
serious risk. Mr. Fox, the lawyer, has been up this morning
to see me, and has presented me with a prospectus of a com-
pany working on this principle of Limited Liability; — ^his
brother, a highly respectable man — I knew him when he was
a curly-headed little boy, no bigger than you were when your
poor father died, my dear, and have given him many a sugar
Btick,— -dear me, how time does pass, to be sure I — ^is now in
London, and is solicitor to this company ; so, you see, I shall
64 Aimt Lucretia^s Eoq>&riene6 m Limited JdabilUjf.
feel as if I were among neighbours and friends when I join ijt.
His father and my father liyed next do<Mr to eaoh other for
twenty years. Mr. Fox tells me it is perfectly safe and
highly respectable. But I will read you what the prospectus
says :' — and Aunt Lucretia after this long pre&ce firom her^
began to read from the long sheet of paper she was studying
when I entered the house. ' The Patent Atmospheric Marine
Sponge Company^ Limited.' She laid a particulw emphasis on
Limited. ' Capital £20,000, in 20,000 shares of £1 each, with
authority granted to increase to £100,000.' Then came
a list of directors, banker, solicitors, managing-directors,
marine engineer, auditor, secretary, &o., all of which names
aunt read out with much deamess and evident enjoyment.
Every one of them was, in her eyes, a strong spoke in the;
wheel that was to roll her on to fortune. She went on : ' This
Company is registered and incorporated for the purpose of
procuring sponges from the Mediterranean, and raising them
by means of patent apparatus, the exclusive property of the
Company.'
" The amount of the value of the sponges annually imported
into Great Britain has been variously estimated at from one
to three million pounds sterling, or upwards of £8,000 per day,
and the demand has increased nearly thre^efold within the last
ten or twelve years." ' The reason of that no doubt is, the
Baths and Washhouses, my dear,-— ^and I'm sure its a com-
forting reflection to think that this Company will make
sponges much cheaper for the requirements of the labouring
classes, who, poor things, have not had too much washing and
sponging hitherto.'
" This Company having purchased and secured patents for
Grreat Britain and America, on entirely new and sound prin-
ciples, for raising sponges from the Mediterranean, propose to
construct apparatus, miich it is anticipated will procure them
to the value of upwards of £50,000 per annum. As a com-
mercial undertaking, this Company ofiers a promising and safe
investment for either large or small capitalists, — and the
directors, having satisfied themselves of the valuable character
of the invention, are determined no efibrt shall be spared in
bringing the Company to a successful issue, both mechanically
and financially. Bough estimate of the probable annual divi-
dends to be realised by this Company, when in operation, and
with a suitable setof aparatus;" — 'hum — ^hum — ^hum — ^ii will be
sufficient to say, my dear,' running her eye quickly down a
long list of figures, '^ that the total net profit is estimated at
£9,750. This profit, which the directors believe is a fair
approximate estimate, would ^enable the Company to declare
Aunt Lucretia's Experience in Limited LiaJnlity. 65
a dividend of 32 i per cent.^ wlien the shares would be worth
in the market, from £5 to £8 per share ! ^^
Aunt Lucretia laid down the paper with a triumphant air,
and put her spectacles by its side on the table. ' And now,
Anthony, you know what I meant when I said that 32 i per
cent, on my £3,000 let us say, for I shall not put in all my
money, will find abundance to send you to Italy, and provide
amply for your studies there, as well as find me a few more
luxuries than I have hitherto been able to get. I^m sure I
feel extremely obliged to Mr. Fox for bringing me this pros-
pectus ; he might, you know, have quite forgotten me, though
we have been acquainted so long ; Fm sure I take it as very
neighbourly of him.^
' Very,* I replied, overjoyed at my brightening prospects.
* And to think that I shall really see Venice, St. Mark's and
the Campanile, the Grand Canal, and the Bialto, and all those
glorious places and churches ! Oh, Aunt Lucretia, it is really
too kind of you I '
' Nay, my dear, 1 shall enjoy your pleasure as much as if it
were my own. You will send me long letters of what you see,
and what you learn, and I shall send them to Janet, and Aunt
Kezia, who will be forced to confess that '
What Aunt Ke^ia would be forced to confess I never heard,
though- she entered the room at this moment, to give account
if she had been inclined. ' She was walking to town,' she
said, ' and had called here on her way,' and, as she spoke, her
sharp eyes regarded us both with an air which said, ' What
have you two silly fools been talking about, to make you look
so pleased ? ' A cold breeze came with her into the room.
A cold breeze ? a frosty breeze I may say, which seemed to
wither up the flower of my hopes, like a sharp night in
December. My plan was still lying spread open upon the
table, and at once Aunt Kezia applied her eye-glass to it.
' What grand place is this ? ' said she, critically. ' At all
events it has windows enough, windows and pinnacles,— it has
as many points as a pincushion full of pins. This your work,
Anthony ? ' ' Yes, Aunt.' ' Well, it's not so bad, perhaps,
for a beginner,' she added, in a tone meant to be gracious. —
^ Not 80 bad for a beginner I ' Was that the way in which she
talked of the glorious design which was to hold its own even
among the churches of Venice ? I felt indignant, but dared
not show my indignation, and stood silent and mortified at her
side. And now Aunt Lucretia interposed, sympathising with
my mortification and wishing to assist me out of it. ' I have
been telling Anthony that some day he will make a great
architect, sister, — all in good time you know yet ; the drawing
Vol. 11.— No. 41. 1
66 Aunt Lucretia^s Experience in Lindted Liahility.
is very beautiful, Fm sure, and he deserves great credit for
his pains, so Fm thinking of sending him abroad next year,
to Italy, perhaps, for a few months, to study, it will be such a
fine opportunity for him/
Aunt Kezia opened wide her eyes. ' Do you know what it
will cost to send him to Italy for a few mont*hs, sister
Lucretia ? Two hundred pounds, if a penny : you talk as if it
were as easy to get to Rome as it is to go to London. Don^t
fill the lad's head with nonsense. Two hundred pounds aro
not found on every bush ! ' ' That's true,' said Aunt Lucretia,
'and Anthony and I don't expect to find them there,' and she
looked at me with a satisfied smile ; ' but now my income is
going to be so much larger, I shall be able to aflTord two
hundred pounds very well, there will be no need to come upon
yon at all.'
' Your income going to be larger ? ' asked Aunt Kezia in
astonishment. 'What more can you get out of the three per
cents ? What's in the wind now ? '
Aunt Lucretia put in her hand the prospectus with an
important look. ' Read that, sister,' she said, 'and then you
will see that I am to have 32^ per cent.' Again the eyeglass
was brought into use, but put down again almost more quickly
than it had been after examining the design. Then, with an
amount of scorn which it would utterly foil me to describe,
she threw the paper from her upon the table^ and said^
' Cobwebs! Sister Lucretia you are a fool ! '
'I hope not,' she replied, calmly. 'At all events I am
intending to try the Company.' 'And if you do, you'll
bitterly repent it, that's all I have to say. A company of
adventurers I '
' Don't you see that Mr. Fox is solicitor, — Andrew Fox that
you and I nursed many a time ? ^e's no adventurer, Kezia.'
'K you had said he's no goose, you would have said
better — ^he's a fox; but all lawyers are foxes, for that matter !
Thirty-two and a half per cent. ! Thirty-two and a half
Cobwebs ! '
And,after having given utterance to this strong denunciation.
Aunt Kezia flounced out of the room.
I looked at Aunt Lucretia in dismay, but there was not the
tiniest ruffle or wrinkle on her quiet face. Cobwebs certainly
had no great terrors for her, and even thirty-two and a half of
them had not been able to dim the pleasant light in her eyes.
Mr. Fox had known how to talk her over to some purpose
that day. Her faith in him and his prospectus was unabated.
' Don't be downhearted, Anthony,' said she to me, ' roll up
your plan, my dear, and put it where you'll be able to find it
Auni Lucretia^s Experience in Limited LiahUUy: 67 '
when you start for Italy, you'll want it then to good purpose^
you know/ And she gave me one of her brightest smiles. 'I
wrote a letter to my agent this very day to sell out £3,000,
and you and I won't be baulked by a few cobwebs/
Of course I smiled back again, and of course I was soon as
full of hope as ever, and before I left her that night we had
fetched out the great atlas from the glass bookcase, and had
traced out my journey through Italy. I was not only to visit
Venice, but Rome and Florence, Pisa and Bologna, and every
other town and city of architectural note. I was in the seventh
heaven of delight and anticipation.
Aunt Lucretia's £3,000, then, went to procure sponges, not
all at once, but gradually, as call after call was made on
her during the summer. Flattering accounts were received
by her of the progress of the Company, as reported by the
directors at shareholders' meetings, and sent abroad on hot-
pressed grandly printed circulars amongst them and their
friends. The patent plucking apparatus (so called because
it plucked the sponge oflF the rocKs) was working well, and
immense stores of the useful article were already placed
in the Company's warehouses, to be sent to the North Pole
when the next whaling season began, for use among the
Esquimaux and Greenlanders, who, it was notorious, were far
too oily to be cleanly, and needed every inducement, cheap
sponges included, to bring their skins into good order. So pros-
perous did the Company report itself to be, by the mouths of the
directors, that some enthusiastic shareholders, wishing to paint
the lily and adorn the rose, subscribed a considerable amount
of money for the purpose of obtaining life-size portraits in oil
of the principal directors, to hang up in the board room, as
everlasting mementos of their virtues and capabilities in the
management of the plucking apparatus and the cause of
suction generally. Beautiful portraits of these gentlemen
were produced, and unveiled in the presence of a large company
met together to drink tea and praise each other. Aunt
Lucretia could not attend this tea meeting, which she greatly
regretted ; but she read me, a few nights afterwards, a long and
flowing account of it, in a small newspaper published specially
y the Company, entitled ' The Marine Friend/
As matters were progressing so satisfactorily with the Sponge
Company, Aunt Lucretia thought she could not do better than
invest £2,000 more, not in the same company, but in two of
the most promising of the many dozens whose prospectuses
were sent to us about that time. Limited Liability companies
were rising up on all sides, and for every imaginable purpose,
and lawyers^ auditors^ and directors were having a most
66 Aunt Luaretia's Experience in Limited LiahilHy.
pleasing and profitable time of it. So also were shareholders^
according to their reports^ and 'many a hoard that was safely
laid by in some old-fashioned, steady-going, three or four per
cent .-paying-company was sold to be reinvested in some ^of
the many new schemes afloat — promising to gain twenty per
cent, and upwards — ^by businesses as substantial, if we may
judge by the result, as building palaces in the moon, or
making roadways to Sirius. But I am proceeding too rapidly.
Aunt Lucretia's sponges at all events were real. A specimen
had been sent to her by one of the directors, of those very
interesting zoophytes, gathered off the coast of Barbary by
the patent plucking apparatus ; and she and I looked with
almost a species of affection at the wonderful vegetables (if
I am not wrong in the designation) that were to turn three
per cent, into thirty- two and a half, for our benefit. A fine
specimen was sent to Aunt Kezia — as a sort of peace-offering
— ^but the offering was returned with the word cobweb written
on the envelope in large letters. After that, we never ventured
to name the company again to her. However, we quite en-
joyed our prosperity without her sympathy, and our talk
together on those long summer evenings was unusually interest-
ing. Ulysses and Adam Bede were laid aside, and disserta-
tions on architecture and books of Italian travels took their
place. My mother's counterpane was finished, and Aunt
liucrotia was now busy knitting me warm socks and comfort-
ables for iho passage over the Alps. Sttore exciting events
occurred, too. One fine morning I was aroused from my work
of colouring the ground plan of a new Methodist Chapel in
Mr. Plumber's back oftice, by the news that a lady in a carriage
wished to speak with me. To my astonishment the lady
proved to be no other than my dear old aunt of Sycamore
cottage, seated in a tiny, but very pretty pony carriage.
* What do you think of it, Anthony ? ' she said, almost before
I had time to shake hands with her. I expressed my surprise
and pleasure, and especially admired the pony, a long-tailed,
bright-eyed little fellow, almost black. 'Yes,' she replied,
* he's very handsome ; he belonged to Mr. Pox's mother, who's
dead, poor old lady, and I have bought him very cheap, he
assures me. Ask Mr. Plumber to give you a two hours' holi-
day, my dear, and we'll have a drive together.'
What a drive was that I
C • and its environs never looked so lovely. There was
neither heat, nor dust, nor rain, nor wind, it was the perfection
of a day for our purpose. The pony went beautifully. I drove —
proud enough to handle whip and reins — and Aunt Lucretia
talked at my side with a smile that never ceased. My
Aunt LucreUa's Experience iri Limited Liability. 69
pleasure made hers complete. ' I think I may venture upon
this little extravagance, especially as you like it so much/ was
her speech, when I asked her about its cost. ' When you go
to Italy, I shall lay it down, for I shall have nobody to drive
me then, andPm getting too old to care about driving myself;
but this summer we will enjoy ourselves. What a pleasure it
is to feel that you need not look anxiously after every shilling.'
This observation I assented to very joyfully. When I returned
to my desk and drawing, my hand was not quite so steady as
usual, and I felt the least bit in the world elevated. It was
something to have an aunt who kept a pony carriage ! Cor-
nelius Haythom, who is a good fellow enough generally, used
to jeer me about that time at my being what he called ' uppish,'
and taking airs. I was not at all aware of it, and thought his
observations very ill-natured ; but I have concluded since that
lie might be right. A little prosperity, like a little sunshine
with persons who have weak eyes, dazzles, and things do not
appear exactly with their true proportions. As the favoured
nephew of an aunt getting so rapidly rich, I held up my head,
I daresay, a httle too high, and talked provokingly of the joys
of my Italian tour, and the fame in store for me. And it
certainly must have been provoking to Haythom, who had no
such rose-coloured prospects, and certainly no aunt with £3,000
worth of shares in the Patent Atmospheric Marine Sponge
Company.
Autumn came, and new desires budded in the mind of dear
Aunt Lucretia. She had been content to stay at home in
former years, and to hear of the coming in of tidal waves
rather than to see them. Her small income had not been
favourable for sea-side excursions. But now, ' It was quite
diflFerent,' she said. The box of sponges had brought with it
a strong scent of the ocean into Sycamore Cottage, and every
time she opened it, which was pretty often, memories came
to her, with its peculiar unmistakeable odour, of days of her
youth spent on the sands, in shell-gathering and donkey-
riding, of fresh sea breezes, and half-crown sails to
Anemone Bay and the Lighthouse. These thoughts of her
own youthful pleasures led her to think of mine, and without
more ado than just the asking permission from my master, it
was arranged that I should accompany her on a fortnight's
excursion to Shingle, a favourite sea-bathing place, chosen in
preiference to others chiefly for the reason that amongst the
many flints of its chalky beach were to be found fossil
roonges in great profusion. ' Next to seeing them growing,
Anthony,' she said, ' which I confess I should much like to do,
though I suppose I should have to go down with the plucking
7v JLiitU Lucretia^s ExpeHcnce in Limited Liability.
^^yjur«^u3 to do it, and that might be dangerous, is the plea-
sun^ of seeing thorn with your own eyes, roll in, wet with the
whtos, in their fossil form, and that pleasure we will have/
On our way we called at the offices of the Company of
Marine Sponges, in London, to see the managing director.
Must I whisper it ? Very tiny, tiny doubts had arisen in aunt^s
mind, not as to the stability of the Company, but as to its
wisdom in agreeing to amalgamate with another company that
plucked sponges oi an inferior kind, and from other waters.
' The cheapest things are always the dearest,' was the para-
doxical proverb that she used to express this doubt. ' And if
I could have helped it, this amalgamation should never have
been. But what is my vote among so many ? I am as help-
less as a straw in the whirlpool in the matter. However we
will see the managing director, and hear from him hpw it all
is.' We foimd the offices in one of the largest thoroughfares
of mighty London. ^ A very creditable and very promising
thing,' aunt said, approvingly, as she entered with me the
office on the ground floor, and asked to see the manager.
We were ushered to a long, well-furnished, business-like room
on the first story, the board-room, as we at once knew by the
sight of six or eight large oil portraits, kit-kats all, of various
sagacious, thoughtful looking gentlemen in black coats, with
' books or work or healthful play ' about them, as with the
' busy bee ' children, in the shape of heavily plumed, well cut
pens, and rolls of interesting-looking manuscript, supposed to
be the enlivening and prosperous accounts of the Patent
Sponge Company. The manager was not there, he was seeing
a gentleman in his private room; so, while we waited, wo
looked round the long room, admired the portraits, and
especially we admired a glass case at the further end in which
was artistically inserted, intermixed with corals and gaily
coloured sea- weeds, a gigantic piece of sponge. ^ Now that
is a thought for me,' said Aunt Lucretia; ^when I get home,
I will have a glass case made and fill it with my specimens,
and while we are at Shingle, Anthony, we will gather seaweed
to put about them. It will be a nice ornament for my drawing
room.' While she was speaking, the managing director
entered. We thought at first that it was some one come to
announce his presence, or to convey us to it, so very
difierent did he look from the managing director of our awe-
struck imaginations. Instead of an elderly, dignified man,
with intensely thoughtful brow and deep set eyes of gravity,
on whose broad shoulders might be supposed to rest the
weight of so important a company, and in whose ample brain
might revolve the cares and schemes of such a great under-
Aunt ImereUa's Experience in Limited Liability, 71
takinf^, we saw a slight young man of about twenty-two years
of age, with bright full eyes, and the smooth round cheek of a
girl. But if his cheeks were smooth, his brow was not, and
ne began to upbraid Aunt Lucretia with having sent him a
letter which might, he said, do an immensity of damage. We
both stood chidden before him, while he brought out her
letter from a private drawer, and read it aloud with sundry
comments on its ignorance and absurdity. Not that he used
such impolite words as these to a lady and a stranger, but he
gave her their equivalents in a softer idiom. The letter
sounded to me an innocent and meek letter enough, — it was
one written before leaving home — expressing modest doubts
about the advantage of the amalgamation, and ending with a
regret that one shareholder's vote had so little power in the
affair. Mr. Augustus Sells thought it anything but modest ;
according to him, it was a fire-brand that might have burnt up
every sponge on the establishment. When he saw that my
Aunt was sufficiently humbled and alarmed, he changed his
tone, and talked with much volubility and effect of the bright
prospects of the Company. ' The world was all before it where
to choose ' and pluck its sponges ; the apparatus was doing
wonders ; the directors were marvels of industry, energy, and
business tact. What he said was nothing very new ; we had
read something very like it again and again in the reports ;
but from him, it had double power to exhilarate. He fairly
magnetized us by his full glittering ^oye — and wo left his
presence in the highest spirits, ready to enjoy ourselves at
Shingle. ' After alV said Aunt Lucretia, ^it is best to leave
these things entirely with the directors. They understand
them so much better than I can do. The new company may
be an acquisition — and I think now, it will. Mr. Sells is a
wonderfully clever man, that is certain.'
We watched the tide in and out for a fortnight, as we
had intended, and then we returned home, with stores of sea-
weed for the glass case. Sycamore Cottage looked cheerful
and quiet as ever under the mellow September sunshine, and,
as we drew near to it, we little thought what a piece of unrest
there was for us inside its walls. ' Any letters, Janet ? ' said
my Aunt. ' Yes, ma'am,' was the maid's reply — ' this one came
this very morning,' and she presented her mistress with a large
business-like letter, addressed to ^Mrs, Lucretia Crocket.' 'At
least they might have addressed me rightly,' said my Aunt,
who evidently had forebodings as to the contents of the great
circular, for such it was, printed closely on four sides. It
contained heavy complaints against the directors of the Sponge
Company from some of the shareholders, and prophesied all
72 Aunt Lucretia^s Experience in Limited Liability.
sorts of calamities from the recent amalgamation, with, what
it styled, a bankrupt company. Aunt Lucretia looked
unutterably distressed. Could it be that her confidence had
been abused — that her £3,000 were in jeopardy ? ^ Read it
Anthony, and see what you can make of it. To me it seems
all a terrible mess !* was her helpless exclamation, as she passed
the circular into my hands. I read it as carefully as I could,
and the conclusion I came to was not a pleasant one, provided
even half of the accusations were true. The Sponge Company
was evidently in trouble — involved in legal proceedings, and
the helpless prey of unprincipled directors. I was obliged to
tell my fears ; though I made them as light as I could. Aimt
Lucretia said nothing ; she only gazed sorrowfully at the new
glass case, which she had ordered to be made in her absence,
and which stood ostentatiously before her on the table — placed
there by Janet^s faithful hands, as a pleasant sight on entrance.
In a while, however, she ordered it away into the china closet,
with the circular laid on the top of it. The next day another
circular arrived from the directors, contradicting the first ; and
when I came at night, I found the glass case had been rein-
stated in the drawmg room, and half filled with sponge and
sea weed. My Aunt's spirits were high again, and she
employed me half the evening in helping her to arrange the
treasures from the sea. We made a very pretty group of them,
as we thought, and we should soon have been as hopeful as
ever, as the days wore on, only that from time to time came
some of those ominous circulars of crimination and recrimina-
tion, from wide-awake shareholders in London, and indignant
directors. T^ie winter was a gloomy one ; my Aunt's cheeks
grew paler and thinner, and her eyes sadder. It was evident
she was sufiering, and that she was dreading still worse news.
But she rarely now told me of her troubles ; and, on the other
hand, I did not revert to them, but tried to make the hours
we were together as cheerftd as I could. We neither of us
spoke of Italy, in those days of suspense and gloom ; it dropped
away from our conversation as silently but as surely as the last
brown leaf dropped from the sycamore. The pony and car-
riage were sold at a considerable loss ; but, as the pony was
said to be ' eating his own head ofi",' a very strange proceeding
on the part of the pony, there was no help for it.
And now Aunt Kezia came out in more amiable colours. All
the summer of our high hopes she had kept away from Sycamore
Cottage; or, if she had come, it was only to look severe
and call sponges cobwebs — an incorrect way of speaking very
distasteful things to her sister. But, as the days darkened
(in two senses). Aunt Kezia made more frequent visits, talked
Atmt Imcretia^s Experience in Limited Liability, 73
more graciously, never mentioned sponges, and, what was
more remarkable, never once made an observation, good or bad,
about the glass case and its marine contents. She listened,
too, to my talk about Catherine wheels, apses, and flying
buttresses, making no sarcastic puns upon such inviting
names ; and, very humbly for her, allowed me to give detailed
explanations of the three, ^s though she thought I really
might have a little knowledge that she did not possess. I began
to half like Aunt Kezia, and ceased to call her, even to myself.
Aunt Cobwebs.
Spring came again, showering, bursting, smiling, into leaf.
The sycamores unfolded their great broad leaves, everything
outside of the little cottage was fair and joyful, everything
inside was sad and depressing. Dear Aunt Lucretia was ill.
She had taken to her bed the very day that she had received
the news of the Patent Atmospheric Marine Sponge Company
being in Chancery, for to this untoward end it had come at
last, after a winter of quarrelling, and expense, and robbery
amongst its managers. Her £3,000 were clearly gone, for when
do lawyers leave a bone of contention till it is picked clean as
a twice-boiled skeleton ? And, worse still, a panic had seized
the speculating and commercial world, and the two other
Companies in which she had invested £2,000 more, collapsed ;
but that is far to mild a term, vanished, as completely as a
bubble which has burst, and almost as quickly. It almost
seemed from the trifling records she gained of the career of
tho§6 two Companies, that her money was no sooner invested
than it was gone. If she had thrown her bank notes into the
fire, they would scarcely have been more speedily destroyed.
Strange, too, most of the directors, who were supposed to
have had large investments in the Companies, were found
to have saved themselves, and left the flock of innocent
trusting shareholders to the wolves.
And Aunt Lucretia had sickened at the news, and kept her
room, refusing to be comforted. Aunt Kezia was her attentive
nurse ; but no word had passed between them about her
money losses, as yet. Only to my ears had she revealed them ;
for, with the nervous shrinking of the invalid, she dreaded to
receive those harsh strictures and fault-finding comments she
had reason to expect from her sister when she should be ac-
quainted with her calamity.
One evening I had gone up earlier than usual, and found
Aunt Lucretia upon the sofa by the fire, wrapped up closely,
and looking paler and thinner than ever. She smiled a little
when I entered, and then she went on talking in a low voice
to Aunt Kezia, who sat close by her, having hold of her hand.
74 Aunt LucreHa*8 Experience in Limited Liability.
and gazing earnestly and kindly into her face. ' Yes/ she
said, ' Pve been very foolish not to take your advice. You
always said I was too credulous, and I see now that I have
been, — now, that Fm ruined, or nearly so. That Sponge
Company, and two others, have swallowed up the greater part
of my property. I shall have to leave this place, where I have
lived so happily for so many years, — to sell up, — to be quite a
poor woman. I can do nothing more for Anthony, poor
follow, nothing more for anybody ! ' and the tears began to
roll down her wast^^d cheeks as she spoke. ' Can you forgive
me, KoBia? AVhy don't you begin to scold me ? '
* Because I cannot,' said Aunt Kezia, gruffly, trying to
Bwallow down some deep emotion. ' Because IVe been so
great a fool myself ! Your besetment was sponges and 32^
per cent. Mine was coal and 25 per cent., — that's all the
uifforence. I thought myself wiser than you, and kept out
of the London Companies, but Limited Liability laid hold of
me, or rather the reckless adventurers that used it for their
own purposes. A Coal Company was started at C . I
knew four of the directors. I thought I was safe. I put
in £4,000. It's all gone> and the directors ride in their
carriages still, and are likely to do. But Fm not ruined,
neither are you, quite. So take heart, dear Lucretia,' — ^and
then Aunt Kezia gave way, and sobbed beside her sister, and
a tear or two of mine rose up at the same summons.
We tried our best; the doctor tried his best; but Aunt
Lucretia did not rally. She lingered out a few weeks longer,
and then she left Sycamore Cottage for over. Everything
had to be sold ; all her possessions were dispersed to the
four winds. Mr. Fox, the lawyer, passed the empty place a
few times on his way to town, and then he went to reside in
London, to join in partnership with his brother, who had become
a man of wealth and importance in those days of broken down
Companies, and wanted assistance. The Patent Plucking
Apparatus had answered well for him.
Aunt Kezia was compelled to leave her brick mansion, and
lives now in a much snialler one ; but there are no cobwebs
in it of any kind, she declares emphatically, and when she sees
Mr. J one of the late directors of the Coal Company
Limited, go by in his brougham, she asks as emphatically,
whether our lawgivers were fools or knaves to leave matters
so loosely, that shareholders should have no power to bring
reckless and defaulting directors to justice ?
(75)
SELECTIONS.
SCOTLAND A CENTURY AGO.
Nothing could be more dreary than
the aspeot which Scotland presented
about the middle of last century. Her
fields lay untiiled, and her mines unex-
51ored, and her fisheries uncoltiyated.
'he Sootoh towns were for the most
part collections of thatched mud cot-
tages, giving scant shelter to a miserable
Edition. The whole country was
idin^, gaunt, and haggard, like
d in its worst times. The common
people were badly fed and wretchedly
olotned, those in the country for the
most part living in huts with their
cattle. Lord Kaimes said of the Scotch
tenantry of the early part of last century,
that they were so benumbed by oppres-
sion and poverty that the most able
instructors in husbandry could have
made nothing of them. A writer in
the 'Farmer's Magazine' sums up his
account of Scotland at that time in these
words: 'Except in a few instances, it
was little better than a barren waste.*
The modern traveller through the Lo-
thians — which now exhibit, perhaps, the
finest agriculture in the world — will
scarcely believe that, less than a century
ago, these counties were mostly in the
state in which nature had left them. In
the interior there was little to be seen
bat bleak moors and quaking bogs. The
chief part of each farm consisted of out-
field, or unenclosed land, no better than
moorland, from which the hardy black
cattle could scarcely gather herbage
anoueh in winter to keep them from
starvmg. The in -field was an enclosed
patch of ill -cultivated ground, on which
oats and ' bear,' or barley, was grown ;
but the principal crop was weeds. Of
the small quantity of corn raised in the
country, nine-tenths were grown within
^Ye miles of the coast, and of wheat
Tery little was raised—not a blade north
of the Lothians. When the first crop
of that grain was tried on a field near
Edinburgh, about the middle of last
century, people flocked to it as a wonder.
Clover, turnips, and potatoes had not
yet been introduced, and no cattle were
fattened. It was with difficulty they
could be kept alive. All loads were as
yet carried on horseback ; but when the
urm wai too small, or the crofter too
poor to keep a horse, his own or his
wife's back bore the load. The horse
brought peats from the bog, carried the
oats or barley to market, and bore the
manure a-field. But the uses of manure
were as yet so little understood, that if
a stream were near it was usually thrown
in and floated away, and in summer it
was burnt. What will scarcely be
credited, now that the industry of Scot-
land has become educated by a centurr's
discipline of work, was the inconceivable
listlessness and idleness of the people ;
they left the bog unreclaimed and the
swamp undrained. They would not be
at the trouble to enclose lands easily
capable of cultivation. There was per-
haps but little inducement on the part
of the agricultural class to be inaus-
trious ; for they were too liable to be
robbed by those who preferred to be
idle. Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun,
commonly known as * the patriot,'
because he was so stron<;ly opposed to
the union of Scotland with England,
published a pamphlet in 1G98, strikingly
illustrative of the lawless and uncivilised
state of the country at that time. After
giving a dreadful picture of the then
state of ScotUnd— * 200,000 Tagabonds
begging from door to door, and robbing
and plundering the poor people in years
of plenty, many thousands of them meet-
ing together in the mountains, where
they feast and riot for many days ; and
at country weddings, markets, burials,
and other like public occasions, they
are to be seen, both men and women,
perpetually drunk, cursing, blasphem-
ing, and fighting together;' he pro-
ceeded to urge that every man of a
certain estate should be obliged to take
a proportionate number of these vaga-
bonds, and compel them to work for
him ; and, further, that such serfs, with
their wives and children, should bo in-
capable of alienating their service from
their master or owner until he had been
reimbursed for the mon^ he had ex-
pended on them ; in other words, their
owner was to have the power of selling
them! Although the recommendations
of Mr. Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun,
were embodied in no act of Parliament,
the magistrates of some of the larger
76
Selections.
towns did not hesitate to kidnap and
sell into slaTery lads and men found
larking in the streets, which they con-
tinued to do down to a comparatiTely
reoent period. Th», howerer, was not
so surprising, as that at the time of which
we are speaking, and, indeed, until the
end of last centui^, there was a reritablo
slaTe class in Scotland — the class of col-
liers and salters — ^who were bought and
sold with the estates to which mej be-
longed, as forming part of the stock.
When thej ran awaj, thej were adyer-
tised for, as negroes were in the American
states until within the last few years. It
is curious, in turning oyer an old yolume
of the ' Soots' Magazine,' to find a G^end
Aasemblj's petitioo to Parliament for the
abolition or slayerj in Amenca almost
alongside the report of a trial of some
colliers who had absconded from a mine
near Stirling, to which thej belonged.
But the degraded condition of the home
slayes then excited comparatiyelj little
interest. Indeed, it was not until the
yery last year of the last century that
pnedial slayery was abolished in Scot-
land— pnTy three short reigns ago —
almost within the memory of men still
Hying. The greatest resistance was
GriSbred to the introduction of improye-
ments in agriculture, though it was only
at rare interyals that these were at-
tempted. There was no class possessed
of enterprise or wealth. An idea of
the general poyerty of the country
may be pferred from the fact that
about the middle of the last century,
the whole circulating medium of the
two Edinburgh banks — tlie only institu-
tions of the kmd in Scotland — amounted
to only £2O0,00Or which was sufficient
for the purposes of trade, commerce, and
industry. Koney was then so scarce that
Adam Smith says it was not uncommon
for workmen in certain parts of Scotland
to carry nails instead of pence to the
baker's or the alehouse. A middle class
oould scarcely as yet be said to exist, or
any condition between the starying cot-
tiers and the impoyerishcd prt^prietors,
whose ayailable miMins were principally
expended in hard drinking. The latter
WW for the most part too proud and
too ignorant to intorent themHolyes in
the improyemont of their estates; and
the few who did so had little encourage-
meot to perseyere. Down to the middle
of last century there were no made roads
of tnj ^^^^^ i^ ^^® south-western coun-
tka. The only inland trade was in
(iMk oaUle. The tncki ware imprac-
ticable for yehieles, of which there were
only a few carts and tumbling cars em-
ployed in the immediate neighbourhood
of the towns. When the Marquis of
Downsbire attempted to make a journey
through Ghdloway in his coach, about
the year 1760, a party of labourers with
tools attended him to liil the yehiole out
of the ruts, and put om the wheels when
it got dinnounted. Eyen with this
assistance, howeyor, his lordship occa-
sionally stuck fast, and whea about
throe miles off the yillage of Creetown
or Wigton, he was obliged to send away
the attendants and pass the night in his
coach on the Corse of Slakes with his
family. Matters were of course still
worse tn the Highlands, where the
rugged character of the country offered
formidable difficulties to the formation
of practicable roads, and where none
existed saye those made through the
rebel districts by General Wade shortly
after the rebellion of 1715. The people
were also more lawless, and, if possible,
more idle than those of the Lowland
districts about the same period. The
latter regarded their northecn neigh-
bours as the settlers in America did the
red Indians round their borders — like
so many sayagea, always ready to burst
in upon them, fire their buildings, and
carry off their cattle. Very little com
was grown in the neighbourhood of the
Highlands on account of its being liable
to be reaped and carried off by the
caterans, and that before it was ripe;
the only method by which security of a
certain sort could be obtained was by
the payment of blackmail to some of
the principal chiefs, though this was not
sufficient to protect them against the
lesser marauacrs. Begular contracts
were drawn up between proprietors in
tlio counties of Perth, Stirling, and Dum-
barton, and the Macgregors, in which
it was stipulated that, if less than seyen
cattle were stolen, which peccadillo
was known as picking, no redress sbquld
be reouired ; but if the number stolen
exceeded seyen, such amount of theft
being raised to the dignity of lifting,
then the Macgregors were hound to re-
coyer. This blackmail was regularly
leyied as far south as Campsie, then
within six miles of Glasgow, but now
almost forming part of it, down to
within a few months of the outbreak of
the rebellion of 1745. Under such cir-
cumstances, agricultural improyement
was almost impossible. The most fertile
tracts wore allowed to lie waste, for men
Selections.
77
ivoold not plough or bow where they
had not the certain prospect of gathering
in the crop. Another serious evil was
that the lawless habits of their neigh-
bours tended to make the Lowland
borderers almost as ferocious as the
Highlanders themselres. Feuds were
«f constant occurrence between neigh-
bouring baronies and even contiguous
parishM, and the country fairs, being
tacitly recognised as the occasions for
settling quarrels, were the soebes of as
bloody faction fights as were erer known
in Ireland, even m its worst days. When
such was the state of Scotland only a
century ago, what may we not hope for
from Ireuind when the oivilising in-
fluences of roads, schools, and indus-
try have made more general progress
amongst her people? — Life of Teffm, by
Samuel Smiles.
MEXICAN LIFE.
The whole life of a Mdxican bears the
impress of a dolce far nienU, He never
hastens busily through the streets ; his
time is never taken up. They rise early ;
the ladies go in their thick veils to
church, the gentlemen begin their morn-
ing ride. After the walk upon the Ala-
meda everyone goes home ; they gener-
ally take a baSi ; and there are good
and cleanly well-arranged public baths
in all the streets of the city, as well as
bathing-rooms in all the private dwell-
ings. One often sees the Mexican
women walking up and down the ter-
races of the houses to dry their long
hair, which falls down like a manUe
over their shoulders, and reaches almost
to their feet This daily washing of the
hair has one disadvantage — that it has
a bad effisct upon its fine texture and
equality of tint. The tails, as thick as
one's arm, and originally black, which
adorn the little heads of the Mexicans,
asBome at last a reddish hue. Time is
dawdled away over the completion of
Ihe toilet ; if there are children in the
house their games are superintended,
but they are as gentle and quiet as their
parents! I never saw such well brought
up children anywhere as in Mexico ; no
noise, no strife is perceptible. The
litUe beings are prematurely forward,
they develop very quickly, and are ex-
tremely delicate. It is frightful how
many children perish, even in the rich-
est families, where they might have
every luxury. And it is no wonder,
when one considers the way in which
they are brought up. The women are
generally very weak, and there is nothing
m their way of life to strengthen and
invigorate them. They marry at four-
teen or fifteen years of age, they are
ridily blest with children; it is not
uncommon for one mother to have fif-
teen or eighteen; the chQdren come
very weak into the world, are usually
nursed by their extremely delicate
mothers, and even from their tenderest
age are treated like dolls. Early in the
mom, when the sun had just risen, and
had in nowise dispersed the coldness of
the nighty which is very considerable,
especi^ly in the shade, I have seen the
tiniest creatures smartly dressed and
carried with bare neck and arms to the
Alameda. They are entirely confided
to young Indian girls, and even in the
ricnest houses it is not the custom to
give them over to the care of experienced
women. In their earliest youth they
are taken by their mother to drive in
the Paseo, at six o'clock, when I for my
part was never able to dispense with a
cloak on account of the cool atmosphere
of sunset ; the little things sit half naked
at the open carriage-windows, and then
and there the irrational love of the
parents thoughtlessly and unconsciously
sacrifices the health of the children to
vanity. As they grow up, they go to
school for several hours of the day.
I visited one establishment, and spoke
to the superintendent, a French nun,
who conducted the education of the
girls with the help of several companions
of the same order. She assured me she
had never seen such quiet, obedient, well-
disposed children as here ; ' Chez nous
ce Bont de petits diables, mais iei ce sont
de petits anges,' said she. But even at
this early age they want the candour and
thoughtless freedom of childhood. Their
intelligence is very early awakened, and
is often quite surprising for children
of two or three years old; it quickly
reaches a certain point, but after that
remains ia a state of stagnation. *A
78
Selediom.
douze ans, ils n'avanoent plus,* said the
nun, a fine, active, energetic woman,
masculine in manner, and of a warm,
sympathetic heart. At eight or ten
years old the poor children sit at the
opera till midnight, straggling against
aleep, their little heads adorned with
artificial flowers. Many d ie very young ;
those who do not, especially the females,
lead a hothouse life. Between twelve
and one o'clock a luncheon is eaten,
which chiefly consists of national dishes.
'Tortillas' and 'frijoles' take a pro-
minent place at the tables of rich and
poor. The first are pastry, made of
ff round maize, in the shape of a thin
disk, as large as a plate, white and taste-
less. Among the lower orders this takes
the place of bread; they use it, too,
slightly rolled up, instead of spoons.
' ^joles ' are little black beans, which
thrive particularly well in the neigh-
bourhood of Vera Cruz ; when they have
been cooked for a long time they take
the colour of chocolate, and make a very
good and tasty food. A ragout of turkey
iguajolote), prepared with chilis, a kind
of pepper, and tomatoes, or apples of
paradise, is a favourite dish. Mixed
with maize-flour, wrapped up in maize-
leaves, and steamed, it makes the best
national dish — ^the tamacles. On the
whole, the cookery of Mexico is not
▼ery enticing to Siuropean palates and
stomachs. Lard is used in great quan-
tities in all the dishes, even in the sweet
ones. A good soup is almost an un-
known thing. Coffee, which grows here
of the best kind, is so badly prepared
tiiat it is almost impossible to drink it.
Chocolate, highly spiced with cinnamon,
is, on the contrary, very good, and much
drunk. The afternoon hours are spent
in receiving and returning visits. I
never saw any book in the hand of a
lady, except her prayer-book, nor any
work. They write letters, for the most
part, with an unpractised hand. Their
Ignorance is complete: they have not
the smallest idea of geography and
history. Europe to tnem consints of
Spain, whence they sprang ; Rome,
where the Pope rules; and Paris,
whence came their clothes. They have
no conception of other countries or
other nations, and they could not com-
prehend that French was not our native
tongue. They have themselves but very
faint notions of this language, but have
made a little progress in it since the
invasion of the French. In manv houses
there is no regular midday meal, a little
chocolate or some one dish is prepared ;
they lead a very moderate lite. Wine
or beer is rarely drunk, but there is no
want of pulque at the tables of the rich.
When guests are invited there is no end
to the number of dishes. In families
where regular meal times are observed,
places are always laid for more than the
members of the house, as some relation
or friend is sure to drop in, who partakes
of the meal uninvited, and is received
at it with the greatest goodwill. After
the hour at the Paseo, tbey drive to the
theatre, if there happens to be an opera*
Tbey usually remain there en famille;
and Joined by a few confidential friends,
they play cards, enjoy music, or chatter.
The ladies take great delight in music,
and have great talent for it; they
play often very well on the piano,
and have harmonious voices. When
the young people assemble together
they dance, and these informal enjoy-
ments are ealled * Tertulias. ' The
Mexicans delight in the family circle,
and the relations between parents and
children and brothers and sisters are
very tender. There is one curious habit
nearly universal in Mexico. A girl after
her marriage does not follow her hus-
band to his home, but he very often
becomes a member of his wife's family.
In this way a large circle is formed
around the elders; daughters, sons-in-
law, grandchildren, brothers, and sisters-
in-law, and cousins of all sorts, inhabit
a house too small for their numbers,
live upon the generosity of the head of
the family, ana pay him great respects
G?hey seldom leave this family circle, or
only do so to enter a similar one ; their
ideas remain very confined, and their
interest turns almost exclusively upon
their domestic concerns. In one pomt,
however, we are very apt to do Mexican
wives a great wrong, that is, in respect
to their morality. Indeed, the bulwark
of relations by which a young wife is
surrounded acts to a great extent as a
protection to her; but independently
of that, I found them nearly always
retiring; and rigid even to prudishness
when strangers were inclined to be pre-
sumptuous. Their marriages are really
domestic and happy; married people
are always seen together; and the hus-
band lavishes gifts on his wife, which is
considered a special mark of attachment.
There is no proof so striking of the virtue
of the Mexican women as the groat dis-
content of the French. Once when I
asked a young Parisian, who had been
Selections.
79
mit to Meiioo m a puniBhrnent for great
CKtravaganoe, why it was Bupposed that
centleman would speDd lesB money there
ttaai in France, I received for reply,
'A Paris on ne se ruine que pour les
femmea, tandis qu*& Mexico elles n'ezis-
lent paa pour nous.' That there are
■exceptions I should not dispute, but
such persons are receiyed with great
contempt. On this head there is a wide-
spread mistrust of the French, and their
bragging, when they have but trifling
grounds for it, is much dreaded. The
unmarried girls are allowed much more
licence ; they are far more dressy, vain,
and coquettiah ; and are surrounded by
aoitora, with whom they associate with-
out any restraint, and weaye all sorts of
loire intrigues, in which rendezvous and
a aeeret correspondence both play their
parts. If a young man pa^s attentions
to a giri for any Iragth of ume he passes
as her novio. He is not, howerer, her
betrothed, but only gains the right to
accompany her in her rides, or to the
Paseo, where the carrisges stand often
in long rows to enable their inmates to
see the great world riding or driving by.
He is allowed to take place at her side,
to sit in her box at the theatre, to pro-
tect her, and to accompany her whenever
she has need of an escort. No one has
a right to be vexed if she shares her little
favours amongst several • novios,' — if at
one time she attracts them by kind-
ness, at another repels them by bar
coldness. The Mexican, on his side,
exhibits great patience; his wooing, and
the indecision of the * novia,' last often
for years ; but if she at length listens to
him, and chooses him for her husband,
then he may deem himself fortunate. —
* The Court of Mexito^ by the Qmniess
Paula KolUmiiz,
DEAF AND DUMB TALEBBS.
H. Lotus Leroy gives the following
eorioos account of a school which he
lately visited at Geneva : — The pupils,
in recreation, were plajing in a court
planted with trees, running about, and
not making much noise, notwithstanding
that there were some little girls amongst
the number. M. Benz, the master,
received us with great cordiality. M.
Iielaus, the gentleman who took me
there, mentioned our wish to visit the
flstablishment The master preceded us
into the schooloom, where our entrance
was sainted by several ' Bonjours,
messieurs,' pronounced by a few pupils
who had preferred work to play. Here,
are some little fellows who do not
stammer in their speech,' said I to
X^elaux. 'Do they not pronounce well?'
said he. ' Admirablv,' I answered.
The looks of thene cbilclren had a special
character of sharpness, as they literally
devoured us with their eyes. M. Benz
made a sign to one of them to approach,
and asked him what we did woen we
* came in. ' These gentlemen sat down,'
replied the child. 'And what does
the tallest of them hold on his
knees ? ' * His hat' * His cigar is
out; will you give him a light to
rekindle it?' The child replied ' Tes,
air/ and ran off eagerly to get some
matffhei 'Now/ said the master,
* recite a fable to our guests.' < Le ohdne
et le roseau ' was immediately redted
in a very agreeable manner. « What has
struck me,' said I to the teacher, ' is the
singular clearness of the articulation.
The inflections are as good as at the
Conservatoire. ' This com pliment seemed
to give great pleasure to M. Benz. Some
copy-books, with excellent specimens of
penmanship, were then exhibited ; and
these were succeeded by exercises in
drawing diagrams on the black board,
which were eminently satisfactory, the
pupils tracing out with great skill the
figure or the problem demanded by the
master. 'Well/ said Lelaux to me,
* are you satisfied with the intelligence
of these little fellows ? ' * Certainly/ I
replied, 'but I have seen their equals
in France.' * You really think so ?' « I
am sure of it.' * You may perhaps be
mistaken.' * By no means ; I grant you
that these children are in a fair way;
but apart from their pronunciation^
which is quite remarkable, I repeat that
we have pupils just as far advanced aa
they in most of our primary schools.*
•But yours speak and understand?'
* Just like these.' * No, for these were
bom deaf and dumb.' 'Impossible.' 'It
is the exact truth. Come, now, there ia
one aitb his back turned to us ; address
him, and see if he will answer.' * My
80
Selections.
little friend/ said I, in a yerj lo«d Toice,
' I have here a delicious cake ; will you
have it ? ' The child did not turn round
— ^he had heard nothing. I remained
confounded, and more moved than I can
expreBB at the sight of these poor dis-
inherited children of nature, to whom
the M^acious benevolence of one man
had i£nost restored the two absent
senses. — Charivari,
BABY-GANGEES.
Mr. Benson Baker, one of the Poor
Law medical officers of Marjlebone,
has under his present charge one of the
children who survived the care of Mrs.
Jagger,'and who, he savs, is something
over three years old. This child, three
years old, was employed by the pro-
prietress as a gaffer or ganger over the
younger babies. His duties were to sit
up in the middle of the bed with eight
other babies round him, and the moment
any one of them awoke to put tiie bottle
to their mouth ; he was also to keep
them quiet, and generally to superintend
them. This baby-ganeer has quite the
appearance of ' an old hand ; ' he is
intelligent bevond his years, quite grave
and thoughtful. He knows all about
* Mother Jagger ' and her doings ; also
about the * old babies ' being pat in the
box, and <new babies' being brought
by * Mother Jagger.' When the babv-
ganger was not officiallv employed, he
was tied in a little chair (be cannot walk)
and placed beside the fire; one day
' Mother Jaeger ' had a ' drop of gin,'
80 his baby informant tells Mr. Bmw,
and the baby-ganger fell into the fire,
and as he was tied into the chair he
could not crawl away, and 'Mother
Jagger' was powerless to help him.
His pinafore caught fire, burnt the ends
of four of his fingers of one hand, and
partially destroy^ the muscles on the
inner side of the other arm. This baby
will thus be more or less incapacitated
from ever earning a living. — Briiiah
Medical JoumaL
BABY FARMING IN MANCHESTEB.
A physician writes to us in the fol-
lowing strain: — 'Several years ago I
held the appointinent of medical officer
to the Sick Children's Hospital at Man-
chester, where many sad instances of the
effects of ' baby farming ' came under
my notice. Factory workers marry very
early ; and, as female ' hands ' can earn
nearly as much as their husbands, the
babies of these young couples are left;,
not unfrequently, in the entire charge
of old women, who ' take care ' of as
many children, legitimate and illegiti-
mate, as they can get The charge for
thus taking care of a child appeared to
to vary from eighteenpenoe to three
shillings a week. Numerous were the
cases of chronic diarrhcea and atrophy
from mesenteric disease in these nursed
children that were brought to the hos-
pital. Some of the nurses were women
of dissolute habits and without shame ;
others, feeble women, so old as to be in
their second childhood. Few of the
nursed children came to the hospital for
trifling maladies; the minority were
brouffht when the nurse believed that
the child was so near death 4hat a doc-
tor's certificate would be wanted. The
diseases from which the farmed children
suffered could be traced in nearly all
cases to the improper food that had been
systematically given to the child; in
some cases, to the insufficiency of the
quantity of food, and to the free use of
'quieting stuff.* Clvildren but a few
months old were fed by the less indif-
ferent of these baby farmers with some
of their own coarse food ; while others,
who were in the charge of the worst
section of nurses, received little else but
bread, water, potatoes, and (to keep
them quiet^ a little coarse sugar, which
they sucked through muslin and other
rags. Milk, so abM)lutely necessary for
the healthy growth and development of
a baby, was not given by the migority
of the nurses, except " a hap'orth some-
times ; " perhaps once or twice a week.
It was no wonder, then, that bo many
Sehdions,
81
of tlie children became diaeased and
mated ; no wonder that so manj of
tfaem were brought up for the " certifi-
eate.'* In Bome cases I absolutely
refused to prewribe for children unless
tbey were in the care of their mothers,
Reeling assured that, unless taken from
the bands of the baby farmers, recovery
was hopeless. In some cases I positiyoly
refnsed to giye certificates where I felt
BMured the babies had been nursed to
death. Now, if no child-bearing women
were allowed to work in any factory or
warehouse until her child became a year
old, mooh disease and early death
might, I am certain, be prerented.
There is a flaw in the Kegislitition Act
which deserves attention. When a
doctor's certificate cannot be obtained,
the Begistrar can register the death on-
the report of two respectable witnessea'
who were present at me time of death.
This is the loop-hole through which
many a baby-farmer, culpable of gross
neglect, makes a safe retreat from jus-
tice. I shall be anxious to learn through
your journal whether the system of baby
farming has grown or dmnnished in
lianchester.' — British Medical JoumaU
QT7EEB LODGIN6N3.
Ooodnees only knows for what man-
ner of people the houses in Broad Yard
{aUas Little Hell), and Bit Alley, and
Boae Alley, and Turk's Head Court, and
7ryingpan Alley were originally built.
In more than one instance the arched
entrances to these awful places are less
than a yard in width (this is no mere
coniecture, but the result of placing my
walking-Btick across the entry, and
marking how wide it was), and could
never well have been wider, and yet the
lionaes on either side are lofty as many
of those of our fashionable squares.
The wa^ widens somewhat where the
bouses in the alley begin; but, at its
widest part, I should say, it would not
be at all difficult for the top floor lod-
gers on one side of the way to thrust
a clothes-prop through the window of
their opposite neighbours. I have an
idea that the tall houses originally were
bnilt of red brick, but they are black
now — black and oleaginously festooned,
as though at some time a monstrous
■oup-kettle had been lodged astride
^e roofs of the double row, and had
boiled over. I remarked this singular
appearance to my missionary friend,
and he expressed an opinion that .the
bad drainage had something to do with
it. Some of ihe windows of the tall,
hideous houses are altogether unglazed
and boarded up; others are patched
with paper, or bulge with dirty rags.
Some of the houses have door-stone,
scooped all hollow in the middle by Uie
feet of many generations. Some have
street-doors, but this is an exception,
that house appendage being regaraed as
superfluous, and long since convefted
into firewood in the majority of cases.
All the houses are rotten, ruined, and
in the last stage of deAy. The cellars
and kitchens are a ditch of sewage, the
flooring rat-eaten and worm-eaten until
it is all honey-combed and sapless and
presents no temptation to eitner crea-
ture; the chimneys smoke, the roofs
leak — but this last-mentioned defect
seems to be regarded as rather an ad-
vantage than otherwise by the occupants
of the ^rrot, since it secures to them at
rainy times a supply of water without
the trouble of figntmg and scrambling
for it at the one water-butt in the
court. — Jamu Greenwoody in ^CatulCz
Magctzine.*
LOTTEEIES AND THE LOTTEET LAW.
But lotteries are used for other and
mora questionable purposes than build-
ing churches. Among a host of such
icnemea continually held out to the
pnblic, the enumeration of a few may
Vol. 11.— JVb. 41. r
suffice. Horse racine in England has
received a fresh stimmus and attraction
by the introduction of a five shilling
lottery, (on the convenient Art Union
prinopl^) the shareholders drawing the
82
Selections.
first, second, and third winning horses
in the race, I'eceiying respectivelj large
sums of money, and others receiTing
smaller sums, apportioned, we suppose,
to the amount subscribed. The National
Photographic Association, London, in
a current advertisement, entitled * A
house for Tiothing* announces that eyerr
purchaser of a shilling photograph
issued by them, will be presented with
a gratis cheque entitling the holder to
a share in a distribution of house pro-
perty in May 1866, when eight houses,
in yalue j£2,250, will be given away!
So says the advertisement, without any
qualification or condition, although a
considerable amount would require to
be subscribed before the company could
afford to give away £2,250. Various
London penny weekly publications are
carried on by means of lotteries, for
which tickets are issued to those pur-
chasing 80 many consecutive numbers.
Among prizes recently advertised, were
*a first-class sold watch for eightpence;*
and ^a first-class pianoforte for Is. 6d, ;'
that is to say, a purchaser of eight penny
numbers is said to become entitled to a
chance in the drawing for tlie watch;
and a purchaser of eighteen numbers to
a chance in the drawing for the piano-
forte. Subscribers, however, will find
that they have to purchase more num-
bers than they reckoned on, if they wish
to follow out the drawing. One drawing
is immediately followed by the announce-
ment of another, and the temptation to
purchase is not allowed to flag. These
weekly periodicals appear to have an
immense circulation over the three
kingdoms. Becent proceedings at the
Ouildhall Police Court do not report
fiivourably of the system. In Novem-
ber last, a woman appeared at the court,
and stated that she had been induced to
purchase twenty-six numbers of a penny
publication, by the perusal of an adver-
tisement to the effect that prizes of the
ralue of .£1,000 were to be distributed
among purchasers of those numbers.
When the drawing took place, she found
her name put down for the prize of a
three guinea watch ; but on going for
it, she was attempted to be palmed off
with a common engraving not worth
sixpence ! It further appeared that a
fresh lottery of fifty sewing machines —
'a fortune gratis,' — was advertised to
take place in connexion with the same
publication. A second applicant having
appeared before the magistrate with a
similar complaint, a sommons was issued
against the publisher. He appeared
by agent, ana resisted the claim. The
publication was said to have changed
proprietorship after twenty-four of the
twenty-six numbers were issued, on the
former proprietor becoming bankrupt,
and his successor did not consider him-
self bound by the bankrupt's undertak-
ings. It was further contended that the
claim could not, in any circumstances,
be en forced , for the aim pie reason that the
whole scheme of distribution * was illegal
from beginning to end.' This doctrine
is perfectly sound, and subscribers to
lotteries should bear it in mind, though
it does look an ungracious doctrine in
the mouth of a lottery promoter. The
action in court was finally dismissed on
a technical objection to jurisdiction by
the defendant,* though, in justice to
him, it should be stated that to prevent
further clamour, he promised to satisfy
the claimant by presenting her with a
watch of the value of three guineas.
By current advertisements of the cheap
publication lottery Mhemes, we observe
that the amount of subscription is tempt-
ingly reduced, to entice the credulous,
who are informed that they may have
* a lady's watch for 4d.'
Besides occasional lotteries got up for
special purposes, there is a regular class
of men who subsist entirely by the lottery
system, travelling from town to town,
and disposing of cheap and showy mer-
chandise by means of the * wheel of
fortune,' in shops which they open for
the purpose. Occasionally the authori-
ties give these erratic and illegal mer-
chants notice to quit, under threat of
prosecution ; but a prosecution is rarely
instituted. If their calling is dis-
couraged in one place they avoid the
penalties of the law by simply removing
to another place, — and thus they go the
round of the three kingdoms. The pro-
cess of interdict is not sufficiently speedy
or effectual to curb the career of these
adventurers. In various towns in Scot-
land, there are regular weekly rafHes or
lotteries for various kinds of property,
got up by needy individuals. Concerts
and other entertainments which have
not in themselv^ sufficient elements of
attraction, are made to pay by attractive
prizes, or presents, being distributed to
the audience by lottery, tickets for which
are presented gratis. Our fairs are in-
* Vide Report of Proceedings in Daily
Telegraph, 19th November, I8b6,aQd previous
date.
Seleetums.
83
fested with well-known characters, who
ply their Tocation in Tarious illegal
gomes of chance, among which uxe
Mucky lottery* finds a place. The
General Police Act in &x)t]and em-
powers magistrates to deal with this
class of offenders, as having no lawful
means of gaining their liyelihnod.
Their practices, however, are generally
winked at hy the police, and it is rarely
that a magistrate is called upon to ex-
ercise his power. Some persons may
think it unfair and invidious to include
these vicious games and lotteries in the
same category with lotteries for sacred
purposes; but they all find their level
on tlie same ground of illegality.
Lotteries for state purposes and
private gain have in all countries and
in all times been productive of much
misery and vice. They have tended to
foster a spirit of gambling among the
people, and have given birth to multi-'
form frauds. Everywhere they have
b«en condemned as pernicious in prin-
ciple, and have often been declared
illegal or put under restriction ; but in
many Eoman Catholic countries they
4ire still in full and vicious operation
under Papal authority. Our Govern-
ment wisely put an end to state lotreries,
after incalculable mischief had been pro-
duced in the country. Parliament has
since, as we have seen, but iif violation
of an important principle, sanctioned
the pse of the lottery only to duly
authorised associations, for the encour-
agement of the fine arts. The exception
thus introduced by the Legislature,
however well intended, has unfortu-
nately tended to re-open the door to
illegal schemes, and has gradually led
to the wide-spread abuse of the system.
The promoters of such illegal schemes
almost invariably attempt to shelter
themselves under the hackneyed Art-
Union principle. We should be sorry
to insinuate that the occasional local
iMsaar lotteriei for church purposes are
conducted on other than the most fair
principles which the sjstem admits of;
out the fact that thej are illegal should
prerent such schemes for raising money
being attempted. Our ministers should
certainly be the last to foster and prac-
tice what the law condemns. Into the
■question of the sinfulness of lotteries,
which has been urged in a recent pam-
phlet,* we do not enter here ; we treat
• By Mr. Caldwell of Milton. Published
tiy Nnnmo, Bdinburgh.
them at present on pnrely legal grounds.
The wide-spread, obtrusive, and ques-
tionable mode of conducting lotteries
pursued by Roman Catholics and others;
and the numerous lottery schemes con-
stantly before the public, are of the
nature of common nuisances, as lotteries
were declared to be by tlie Legislature
many years ago. These schemes are
vastly on the increase, and may be ex-
pected further to increase, so long as
they remunerate their promoters, and
no check is put upon them. It is worthy
of the serious consideration of the au-
thorities whether they should continue
supinely to allow these notoriously illegal
practices to flourish and spread. No
further legislative measure is necessary
to arm the exesutive, so far, at least, as
the wide-spread schemes advertised in
our newspapers are concerned. The
remedy for these exists in the present
state of the law, which only requires to
be enforced. The procedure, however,
might certainly be simplified, and at the
same time rendered more speedy and
effectual, if prosecutions were authorised
by local officers in any place where the
law is Mo/a^f^, instead of confining such
prosecutions to the courts of the metro-
polis. It may safely be affirmed that if
private prosecutions vrere still lawful,
the present extensive lottery system
would not have existed. Private prose-
cutions, however, are not now unfortu-
nately authorised; the law officers of
the crown only can enforce the law, and
upon them the duty devolves, and
the responsibility rests, of its proper
administration. The provisions of the
Acts of Parliament of 1836 and 1845,
before noticed, affixing a penalty of £bO
to the printing and publishing any
advertisement or notice of any Tottery
not authorised by law, are of the simplest '
possible character for putting an end to
the graver class of illegal lotteries, by
preventing all publicity as to their ex-
istence ; and in the enforcement of these
provisions no difficulty can be experi-
enced. The like penalty might properly
be extended by the legislature to all
][>ersons who dispose of tickets for such
illegal lotteries. One or two such pro-
secutions would probably be sufficient
to deter pubh'shers from continuing the
illegal adrertisements, and incurring
the statutory penalties. This mode of
prosecution, no doubt, fails to reach the
originators of the lotteries; but, for
the purpose intended, is perhaps the
most effective that could be devised.
84
Selections.
Potsiblj even such proseontionB might
be rendered unneceesarj, if the authori-
ties showed a firm determination hence-
forth to enforce the law, by iflsoing
formal notices to that e£feot, and warning
publishers of the result of disobedience.
We sincerelj hope that the higher legal
authorities may shortly see it to be their
duty to apply the legal remedy to the
orymg evil, and extirpate it from the
three kio^oms. In regard to local
lotteries, m the shape of subscription
Bales, raffles, or otherwise, these can, as
we haye seen, be e£fbctually preyented
by the process of interdict at the instance
01 the fiscals, unless where the offen-
ders are of the erratic class. To deal
efficiently with these persons, a lagal
measure of a more speedy and potent
character is necessary, and it is worthy
the consideration of our legal officials
whether such a measure should not be
applied for from the Legislature. Un-
less some such measure is obtained,
they may safely carry on their illegal
practices with impunity. As for our
small offenders at fairs and markets, we
commend them to the care of the police,
who haye sufficient powers under the
Police Acts to preyent them carrying on
a profitable trade. — Lotteries, PasC and
Present, Legal and IllegaL By W. B.
Dunbar, Aautant Procurator Fiscal,
Dundee, and Dr. Barclay, Sheriff Sub-
stitute, Perth.
THE BBONTE FAMILY.
Standing besidee CharIotto*s last rest-
ing-place, I questioned my conductor
respectine her, and found him at once
ready and willing to oblige me with all
the information m his possession. ' He
Jiad been but a little boj,' he said, < when
all the family were liying, but he re-
membered the three sisters well, and
iiad often run errands for Mr. Patrick.
They used to take a great deal of notice
of him when he was little ; but Miss
Annie was his fayoarite, perhaps because
she always paid him so much attention.
Baking-day neyer came round at the
parsonage without her remembering to
make a uttle cake or dumpling for him,
and she seldom met him without haying
something good and sweet to beetow
upon him. Yes, they were a yery
reseryed family, and yery peculiar in
their habits. The yillagers did not see
much of them, except on Sundays ; and,
of course, nobody knew that the young
ladies were writing books, or that they
had become famous, until, long after,
strange people had begun to come from
a distance to see them. And then the
letters ! What a heap of letters were
always brought to the parsonage in those
days by the postman I Miss Emily,
who is buried here, beside Charlotte,
was the strangest of all the family;
nobody thought so much of Miss Char-
lotte herself. Emily neyer came down
into the yillage, or at least very rarely ;
but there, through the window, I might
see the path by which she used always
to go from the parsonage to the moors.
Hundreds of times, when he was a boy,
he had watohed her go through the style
yonder, followed by zier does. No mat-
ter what the weather was, sne loyed the
moors so much that she must go out
upon them, and enjoy the fresh breezes.
When she went away from Haworth to
become agoyemees, she was taken yery
ill, andw^ened until she was brought
home again, and then she yery soon
recover^ She loTcd the ' moors so
much, that it would haye been a sad
thing if she had been buried away from
them. Of course I had read about her
in Mrs. Qaskell's book, and the way in
which she had refused to see a doctor
until an hour or two before she died.
About Miss Charlotte, he could not tell
so much, she was so very reseryed ; but
he remembered seeing her stand, just
where he was standing now, the morning
that she was married. To his mind, Mr.
Branwell was the cleyerest in the family.
A wonderful talker he was, and able to ao
thines which nobody he had eyer seen
could do. He had seen Branwell sitting
in the yestry talking to his (the sexton's)
father, and writing two different letters
at the same time. He could take a pen
in each hand, and write a letter with
each at once. He had seen him do that
many times, and had aftenfrards read the
letters written in that way. Yes ; it was
true that he came to a sad end ; but Mrs.
Ghiskell had not stated the case about
him correctly. Haworth people did not
Selections.
85
like Mrs. Gbskell at aU. There was a
deal of feeling against her for what she
had said about Mr. Branwell and the
Tillagers enoooraffine him to drink.
Mrs. Gaskell said ne had learnt to drink
when he was a boy, and had gone on
gradually strengthening the habit ; but
that was not true. When he waa nine-
teen years old he was secretary to the
temperance society in the Tillage, and it
WBB not until after that that he learned
to drink. It was not correct that the
landlord of the Bull had had anything
to do with teaching him, though it was
quite true that he used to sit in the
backfparlour there, and drink almost
oonatanUy of an evening when he was
older. But if he could not have got
drink there, he would have been sure to
have got it somewhere else. But oh, ha
was a fine fellow, Branwell ; and such
a talker 1 Ay, and when he was at
the worst, he nerer missed ooming to
the Sunday school with hii sisters. They
all used to come regularly. He remem-
bered Mr. Branwell's funeral, and Misi
Bmily's funeral, and, of course, ha
remembered Miss Charlotte's and Mr.
Bronte's. A strange old gentleman waa
Mr. Bronte. Mr. ^icholls, who mar-
ried Miss Charlotte, was very well liked
by the people. A true gentleman he
was, though very shy and reserved ; but
how could he help being that, when he
had lived so long with such a famibr ?
When Mr. BrontI died he 'put in ' for
the place ; but when he found there wa^
likely to be opposition, he withdrew,
and now he' was living in Ireland again^
where he had married a second wife«
With such pleasant ^arruloosness did
my companion entertain me, even whilst'
I stood beside the grave in which ' Ufe'd
fitful fever ' o*er, t£e bones of Charlotte
Bronte rest. — * A Winter Day at Ha-
worthy* in Chambert! Journal,
MBBSBS. SFOXnSWOODE'S KITCHEN.
The Messrs. Spottiswoode and Co.,
If ew-street Square, the eminent printers,
are trying an experiment, which gives
eierv promise ot being eminently suc-
cessfoL This firm employs about 600
handa, and have made preparations for
s«pplying their hands with dinner and
tea at a nte much lower than the eating-
house and coffee-house keepers in the
neighbourhood can possibly do, and we
need scarcely remarK of a much better
ouality. Out of the 000 hands some
900 are being dined daily, the firm
having commenced with about 100 some
ahort time ago ; and if the experiment
be suooeaafnl, of which there can be
little doubt, the whole of the hands may
be aoeommodated on the premises. To
effect this beneficial chanse in the habits
and comforts of the hands, the Messrs.
Spottiawoode have fitted up a- series of
kitchens, with cooking apparatus of the
mostuseful and effective character, and
which may be justly termed a perfect
culinary muUum in parvo. The leadina
fealurea of this apparatus are a smaU
iteam-boiler, four large steam kettles,
one laree steam hot doset, steam cutting-
up dianes and table, a large roasting
oven, capable of roasting from sixteen to
twenty joints at the same time ; a smaU
close fire range, with circulating hot
water boiler; two good pastry ovens;
a large open boiler for greens imd othee
vegetables; and washing-up troughi^
with hot and cold water ad libitunW
This economic and ingenious apparatoe
is the production of Mr. H. Ingle, the
eminent machinist in Shoe Lane, and
refiects great credit upon his ingenuity.
The result of this arrangement of the
Messrs. Spottiswoode is this : The men
obtain a dinner of good wholesome food*
and without going off the premises, ab
6d. per head, whereas they could not
obtam such a dinner before this experi-
ment was made for less than 8d. pee
head, a difference of 26 per cent, al
least, which has a sensible effect upon
their weekly eaminffs. The example of
Messrs. Spottiswoode may be followed
with great advantage by other large
firms who are plac^ in similar posi-
tions, and thus secure for their hands
advantages which are fully equal to a
rise in wages, and much more benafieial
than any rise, to be effectual, oonld
possibly be. — Observer,
86
Selections.
TEE FLINT ARROW AND SPEAR HEAD IIANUFACTTRR
Amongft the Apacbees Mr. Catlin
found a jerj interesting art, which be
tfauB describes : — ^Tbeir manufacture of
ilint arrow and spear beads, as well as
their bows of bone and sinew, are equal,
if not superior, to the manufactures of
anj of the tribes existing; and the use
of the bow from their horses' backs
whilst running at full speed, may rie
with the archenr of the Sioux or Sh jen-
nes, or anj ot the tribes east of the
Bocky Mountains. Like most of the
tribes west of, and in, the Rockj Moun-
tains, thej manufacture the blades of
their spears and points for their arrows,
of flints, and also of obsidian, which
if scattered oyer those volcanic regions
west of the mountains; and like the
other tribes thej guard as a profound
•eeret the mode b? which the flints and
obsidian are broken into the shapes
ther require. Their mode is rerj simple
and eTidentlj the onlj mode by which
these peculiA' shapes and delicacy of
fracture can possibly be produced ; for
drilised artisans have tned in various
parts of the world, and with the best of
tools, without success in copying them.
Every tribe has its factory, in which
these arrow-heads are made, and in those
only certain adepts are able or allowed
to make them, for the use of the tribe.
Erratic boulders of flint are collected
(and sometimes brought an immense
ciistance), and broken with a sort of
sledge-hammer made of a rounded
pebble of horn-stone, set in a twisted
withe, holding the stone, and forming
a handle. The flint, at the iodiscrimi-
nate blows of the sledge, is broken into
a hundred pieces, and Huch flakes selected
as, from the angles of their fracture and
thicknoxs, will answer as the basis of an
arrow-head ; and in the hands of the
artizan they are ihaped into the beauti-
ful forms and proportions which they
desire, and which are to be seen in most
of our museumi. The master workman,
leated on the ground, lays one of these
flakes on the palm of his left hand,
holding it firmly down with two or
more fingers of the same hand, and with
his right hand, between the thumb and
two i'ore-fingers, places his chisel (or
punch) on the point that is to be broken
off; and a co-operator (a striker) sitting
in front of him, with a mallet of very
hard wood, strikes the chisel (or punch)
on the upper end, flaking the flint off on
the under side, below each projeetinf^
point that is struck. The flint is then
turned and chipped in the same manner
from the opposite side ; and so turned
and chipped until the required shape
and dimensions are obtained, all tiie
fractures being made on the palm of the
hand. In selecting a flake for the arrow-
head, a nice judgment most be used, or
the attempt will fail; a flake with two
opposite parallel, or nearly parallel,
phines is found, and of the thicknesi
required for the centre of the arrow-
point The flrst chipping reaches near
to the centre of these planes, but with-
out quite breaking it away, and etudtk
chipping is shorter and shorter, until
the snape and the edge of the arrowhead
are formed. The yielding elasticity of
the palm of the hand eoMles the chip
to come off without breaking the bodj
of the flint, which would be the case if
they were broken on a hard substance.
These people have no metallic instru-
ments to work witJb, and the instrument
(punch) which they use, I was told, was
a piece of bone ; bat on souimining it,
I found it to be a substance much
harder, made of the tooth (incisor) of
the sperm-whale, or sea lion, which are
often stranded on the coast of the Paci-
fic. This punch is about six or seven
inches in length, and one in diameter,
and one rounded side and two plain
sides; therefore presenting one acute
and two obtuse Aog^ to suit the points
to be broken. This operatiotn is very
curious, both the holder and the striker
singing, and the strokes of the mallet
given exactly in time with the musio^
and with a sharp and rebounding blow,
in which the Indians tell us, is the great
medicine (or mystery) of the operation.
The bows, also of this tribe, as well as
the arrow heads^ are made with great
skill, either of wood, and covered on the
back with sinew, or of bone, said to be
brought from the sea coast, and probably
from the sperm-whale. These weapons,
much like those of the Sioux and Co-
manches, for use on horse-back, are short
for convenience of handling, and of
great power, generally of two feet and
a half in length, and their mode of
using them in war and the chase is not
surpassed by any Indians on the con-
tinent. — La$i Rambles amongst the
Indians of the Rocky Mountains and
the Andes. By (ieorge CatUn,
Selections.
8r
THE *PATAGK)NS.'
I felt at once amongst this little group
as if I were amongst a group of Coman-
ches of North America. Not only are
tbey mounted, equipped, and armed,
like the Comanches, with bows and
arrows, and long lances, and like them
in their modes of dress and ornament,
but strikinelj resemble them in physi-
ognomy and nhysiological traits. The
men chiefly divide their long hair in
two parts, separated on the forehead
and thrown on to the shoulders and
badlL b^ a silver plated band or hoop,
which IS crowded down from the top of
the head and over the hair, near to the
eyebrows, holding the hair in its place,
clear from the face and back of the ears.
Their faces are always (in full dress)
painted red from the eyebrows to the
mouth, including the ear* , and the other
parts of the face painted in a variety of
shapes and bright colours, and they wear
no nead-dresses, and very seldom orna-
ment the head even with a single quill
or feather. Their dress at this season —
the middle of January, and therefore
midsummer — is very slight The men
wear a breech-cloth around the waist,
and the women a sort of apron of cotton-
doth or of bark, extending down to the
knee, and mocassins beautifully embroi-
dered, made of the skins of deer or goats ;
and, in the colder season, both men and
women dress the leg with skins and
wrap themselves in robes made of the
akins of ^anacos, and curiously painted ;
and their tents, which are small and
light, for the c(^nvenience of transporta-
tion, are made of the skins of the same
animal, or of wild cattle and horses, with
which the vast plains of their country
abound. Observing on the chiefs face
the marks of small-pox, I questioned
him about it, and he informed me that
when he was a boy he was near dying
with that disease, and he told me that,
about 1812 or 1815, as near as I could
ascertain, that awful disease was com-
monicated to his people by some white
people on the coast, who were selling
ram and whisky and other things to the
Indians, and that more than one-half of
the great and powerful tribe of Patagons
were destroyed by it. * We are poor,'
■aid he; 'we want many things that
the white people make-^their cloths,
their knives, their guns, and many other
things — and we come here to buy them,
and many of my people, who are foolish,
will buy whisky, and it makes them
mad, when they will kill even their own
mothers and their little children. We
do all we can to prevent this, but still
it is not stopped, and we are afraid of
getting the awful disease again.' One
can easily see that I had enough to do
this day, without painting, and we re-
turned on board full of fatigue and
hunger, the chief having agreed to sit
for his portrait the next day, if the
vessel would wait for me. My condi-
tional appointment with the chief being
explained to the captain, and the port-
folio opened to him, which he haa not
before seen, he agreed to wait another
day, whatever the wind might be, for
the satisfaction of gratifying me, and
the pleasure he would have ashore with
me. Captain Ford proved to be a real
*bon hamme,* and, becoming as much
taken up with me as the Indiians were,
went asnore with me the next morning,
on condition that he could have the pic-
tures to lecture on amongst the women
and children, who had not yet seen
them, whilst I was sketching my por-
traits. And when night came, and we
were safe on board again and our craving
stomachs pacified, be said to me that
this had been to him the happiest day
of his life that he had ever spent. My
sketch of this rational and intelligent
chief was followed by that of his wife
and a warrior ; and then hasty sketches
were made of the little and more humbly
demure of the Fuegians, at which the
famous doctor, with his white head, was
minus, he having withdrawn himself,
probably with absolute disgust. The
reader will easily imagine with what
excitement, and with what iclat^ and
with what security and success, from
this point I could have penetrated and ^
passed through the centre of Patagonia,
with the introduction of this little re-
returning colony, had there been no
rumours of war, and I had had my
faithful Cajsar, or even Alzar with me ;
but here I stood alone, and the barren
coast could have furnished me no reli-
able companions. But it may happen
yet that I shall be able to see the way,
and a proper time to pass through the
midst of these interesting people ; and
then if it happens I shall be able to say
more of them and their customs than 1
now can. Yet, from this little caravan,
who had travelled several hundred milea
Sildciions.
it aiiunec and
ci)|{i£ Asd ten
bj iome earij
chis chief
ibn* vQr9 f»w pactt of the coantrj
wbtfrv ^^ sun vtcv t^tj eill, consider-
sUy sx&r zbazt lixfluelf/ Fhwi this man
I jnraed that rW foverameat of the
PteilpKtt ewembfad Terr doselj that
ef 3ic«K of ehe Xocth Jjnmcma' tribes
— a head coieC. aad a council of lub-
ccdiaan chSefSk or diiefs of bands,
fixmiztf tbs goTemment of the tribe.
He toU me ther could muster 8.000
mrrtoffSk well mounted and well armed*
and were abundantlT able to defend
iheuwelres and their country from
•Haahs of anj enemj thej had ; that
the tribe of 'Puelch'es on the north
of them* between them and Buenos
AjTss. were their relations, and that
throu^ them ther traded horses and
hides for i^uns and ammunition, to the
Bueuoe Ajreans, and in that waj could
equip all the wmrriors of the tribe. Thej
catch their horses wild on the prairies.
Mid train and ride them in the same
wi^, and as well, as the Comanches do.
Their saddles and stirrups are made
with frsat skill, and the stirrups for
womea vwho ride astride and as t>oldlT
•• the men) are suspended by a broad ancl
oraamented strap crossing the horse's
neck; and for both men and women
these stirrups, which are made of wood,
ud curiouslj carred, admit but the two
largest toes to enter, to guard against
fttml accidents which too often befal
horsemen in the oivllised world. Their
dead are always buried in a sitting
posture, and with them their pipes and
their weapons, and bj the side of them
their dogs and their horses: and erery-
thing else that thej possess is burned
with their wigwam. The Fuegians are
a tribe of some fire or six thousand,
inhabiting both sides of the Strait of
Magellan: liring entirely on fish and
wildfowl, and their lives are spent chiefl j
in their canoes, made from bark of trees,
sewed together and glued, somewhat like
the canoes of the Ojibbeways of North
America. In the summer season they
go chiefly naked, both men and women,
wearing only a flap coTCring the hips ;
and in the winter, corer uieir bodies
with robes made of the skins of the sea-
wolf, which they kill with their spears
and arrows. Their manufacture of flint
spear and arrow heads is not surpassed
by eren the Apachees, or Snakes, or an j
other of the Iiorth American tribes, and
they are made in the same forms, and
by the same process, which has been
described. And their wigwams, which
are yery small, are made by setting a
number of slender poles in the ground
in a circle, and bending the tops in,
forming a cone, which is corered with
long grass, or with skins of the sea-wolf.
These people are unquestionably^ a
branch of the Patagon family, speaking
a didect of the Patagon language, and
living in harmony and friendship with
them ; and living bv the side of and
adjoining them, and still so entirely
unlike, both in physiognomy and in
symmetrical proportions, furnish one
of the most striJdng and satisfactorj
proofs of the metamorphose of man, by
men's different modes of life. — Latt
Bambles: by George Cailin,
HOW TO MAKE WORKING MEN'S CLUBS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE.
I. — HINTS TO PBOMOTERS.
To prepare for this catastrophe, begin
by showing the men that you do not
trust them — that they must be treated
like children ; or that> at all events, you
mean to do as much for them, and
leave as little to themselves, as possible.
Avoid having trustees, but get two
committees appointed instead— one of
gentlemen, the other of woxiung men.
liet the gentlemen's oommittee have the
control of all the cash, and let the
working men's committee be obliged
to ask leave for spending anything.
Let there be an appeal from all or
any of the decisions of the working
men's oommittee to that of the gentle-
men's. Get a supercilious, ungenial
manager ; a thoroughly unbusiness-like
or intemperate man will do just at
well. The purpose can sometimes
be answered eflcjotively by having a
man and his wife, and allowing the
Selections.
89
man not to trouble himself at all about
the interetts of the club, and by not ex-
pecting the wife to concern herself about
anything except tea, coiTee, and other
refreshmenta. These last had better be
of inferior quality, nicely spoiled in
making, and rather higher in price than
they can be eot elsewhere. Admit mem-
bers under the age of eighteen or twenty.
Be yery careful that none of the com-
mittee ever trouble themseWes to go near
the club, or exert any authority while
there; at all events not to do this in
turn and with regularity. Let any
gentleman interested in the club care-
fully abstain from coming near it, or
taking any part in the management of
entertainments or classes, un£r a judi-
cious apprehension of being disliked
and distrusted by the membow. It
must ncTer be considered that the re-
finement, culture, and education of an
upper class man can be of the slightest
use to working men, or that the club is
a suitable place for bringing the two
classes together for mutuall? pleasant
and profitable relations. If, howeTer, a
gentleman can go in a dictatorial spirit,
well crammed with suspicions, and can
show that he considers the club Ais, and
not theirSf the satisfiEtctory result may be
sooner produced than probably in any
other way. Make no provision for sup-
plying entertainments for the members,
and of course avoid having * singing' or
'elocution' classes. Should discussion
meetings be established, let subjects be
proposed which will engender strong
personal feeling and give rise to acri-
monious remarks, which the chairman
must refrain from repressing. Theo-
logical topics are admirably adapted for
the purpose, on accoimt of the deep
intei^t felt in them. Let a majority
fefoae altogether the discussion of any
flubjeot* otherwise unobjectionable, but
particularly desired by a minority.
II. — FEINTS TO MSMBSBS.
It ia important that clerks, trades-
man, and so forth, should, if possible,
be- induced to join the club; not, of
oourae, in order to give help of any
kind, but to monopolise the newspapers,
bagatelle board, &c. As this, however,
oannot often be accomplished, the mem-
bers themselves must be encouraged to
treat one another in a cold and un-
friendly fashion— each taking the best
teats, or keeping possession of the most
eoreted newspapers, magazines, or
games — ^taking care to regard the club
merely as a place where they can get a
little amusement and comfort for them-
selves — carefully pooh-poohing any
notion of its being intended as a
general good to the working men of the
neighbourhood, and as an agency for
their social elevation. Members must
avoid paying their subscription regu-
larly, and must never encourage their
fellow-members to do so, or look after
them when they have absented them-
selves— any appearance of interest in
one another will not only help to frus-
trate the desired object, but must be
viewed as a mark of bad taste.
If a man can't go to his club the first
two or three nights in the week, let him
be sure to say, 'Oh, it's not worth
going now this week. TIX wait till next
Monday.' By this means he vnll save
twopence and set a good example,
which, if well followed, will soon close
the club — ^unless, indeed, the landlord,
unfortunately, should agree to deduct
from his rent£all members'^subscriptions
in arrear, which he is very likely to do.
By way of promoting the dissensions
above referred to, in connection vrith
the discussion meeting, it will be very
advisable to request that books of a
strong sectarian, theological bias, or
eminently destructive of received reli-
gious opinions, and likely, therefore, to
be ofiensive to some members of the
club, may be introduced into the library;
or that newspapers of a similar character
be placed on the table. . * Each for him-
sel/,' of course, most be the motto ;
mutual concessions must be carefully
avoided, and nothing like the idea ever
be admitted of its ever being a common
social platform for men of all sects and
parties.
A very useful step will be to introduee
frequent dramatic entertainments, with
dressesy scenery, and with the female
parts performed by female acquaintances
of the members. This will be pretty
sure to alienate the influential fri^ids
and supporters of the club in the upper
ranks, and drive away the slow-going
hum-drum working men. Eecitations,
dialogues, and acting charades without
dresses will not be of any use for this
purpose, but would tend decidedly the
other way. Dancing may also be intro-
duced, with a judiciously fre(]|uent suc-
cession of * penny hops ;* and if without
supervision or selection of company, so
much the better. Merely proposing
these cheerful little amusements will be
90
Selections,
wise policy; beoaiue, if thej are resisted,
you ma^ probably get up a faction against
the ruling powers, ana you might, per-
baps, worry them into resigning, or, if
there are trustees, they will probably
refuse permission for these entertain-
ments, and shut up the place, which
would be a great relief to all parties
concerned, especially to the neighbour-
ins publicans.
In like manner, an agitation might
be got up for the introduction of beer
into the club, which, like the other
measures, whether successful or not,
would delightfully damage the concern,
and probably sow the feels of ultimate
disruption. Make a good deal of the
cry that * it is not meant to be a teetotal
club !* that ' it is very hard a working
man cannot have his beer' wherever he
is or whatever he may be doing; and
that, of course, a pewter pot is an in-
separable adjunct to a British workman's
enjoyment of a sociable evening.
^tting and gambling can be encou-
raged ' on the sly ;' as, of coarse, any-
body has a right to do what he likes
with his own. Few measures will be
more valuable for the important pur-
poses in view. You must discourage
any interest in the mere games them-
selves ; laugh down the notion of there
beine any pleasure in the exercise of
the skill they may require, and vote the
whole thing abominably slow without
tome trifling stakes. Introduce * cards;'
of course, at first, with an emphatic
prohibition against playing for money,
which can be graaually and good-
humouredly ignored.
If all these measures are frustrated,
or fail of their desired effect, get a
dozen or two fellows of the roughest
character you are acquainted wit-h —
thorough-going pot companions — to
join the club for a 'lark.' Set them
to make themselves systematically dis-
agreeable, and to take every opportunity
ot making each member in particubur
uncomfortable; and. if possible, of
getting up occasionally a general ' row.'
They can take private opportunities of
knocking the furniture and games about,
cribbing the bagatelle balls or draughts,
and generally of being able to say when
they leave, they have had 'their
two-pennorth ' out of it, as was recently
and elegantly remarked at a large club.
N.B. — Observe that all those hints to
members can only be effectually acted
on if the ladies and gentlemen interested
in the destruction of the club will also
kindly do their part by attending to the
foregoing hints. Anvthing like that
higher tone and ridiculously improving
and elevating tendency which would be
given by the presence of persons of
culture, refinement, and kindly feeling,
would probably be a fatal antidote to
the best-laid brotherly scheme for dis-
organisation.
All this nonsense about making the
dubs places for something more than
mere amusement and gossip must be
inexorably snuffed ouL A working
man's inability to care about anything
but smoking, drinking, or playing after
his day's work must be fiercely insisted
on, and the whole club and institute
must be kept down as nearly to the
level of the beershop as may be practi-
cable.
The necessity for all the above trouble
in extinguishing the club may be avoided,
however, by sensible precautions when
the first proposals for establishing it are
mooted. Let us, therefore, now glance
at a few of the said ' obstructions,' and
it may be as well here to state that
nearly all the suggestions, both in thia
chapter and in tLe last, are happily
baaed on facts which have actually
occurred — Uie few exceptions being, or
having been, in a fair way to come
under the same category.
HIRT8 TO OBSTRUCTIVia.
At the preliminary meeting, to which
those gentlemen may have been snm-
moned who are thought likely to aid in
the movement, let it be strongly ur^ed
that the working man hates being
patronised, and that the clubs, therefore,
should be entirely self-supporting, or
not exist at idl. Should this objection
be overruled on any of the grounds
mentfoned in the chapter *How can
Clubs be made Self-supporting ?' a good
stand may be made on the ground that
the club is not wanted in that particular
neighbourhood — though, no doubt, very
useful elsewhere ; or it can be eloquently
maintained that home is the proper
place for the working man, and that the
clubs take men away from their homes,
carefully ignoring the nature of those
homes, and keeping out of sight all the
proofs that have been accumulated in
the pages of our Occasional Papers and
Magazine regarding the absurd notion
that the clubs help to bring men from
the public-house to their homes, and to
make those homes happier in variooa
ways.
Selections.
91
If there ia a mechanioB' institute in
the town, it may probably be converted
into a Malakhon ^>C0 de resistance^ and
the inquiry may indignantly be made
irhy the working men don't ayail them-
aelTes of the great advantages it is eup-
poaed to afford. If they won't go to
such a pood reading-room, capital lec-
tures, classes, &c., of course they won't
avail themselves of such common-place
and degrading facilities as talking,
smoking, and recreation-rooms. Do
not the nobility and gentry of England
rash with impetuous eagerness every
night, after a nard day's work or play,
to classes and lectures, and generally
* go in ' for hard study ? Or if tiiere
are a few exceptions among men of a
domestic turn, ia it not well known
that they keep no servants, and that
their family sit the whole evening in
the kitchen, using it as nursery, parlour,
library, and drawing-room, as well as
for nice little dinner and music parties?
Should all these and similar ar£u-
ments prove unavailing, and a number
of misguided fanatics oe determined to
start the Quixotic enterprise, then make
the movement as much of ' a hole-and-
oomer' afiair as possible, and especially
inanaee to prevent a public meeting
being neld, as that might give the work-
ing men confidence that all was straight-
forward and * above-board. '
As the success of the undertaking will
depend mainly, among other important
points, on the working men having full
oonfidence in the sinele-mindedness of
the promoters, try and set these gentle-
men to connect the dub with some
religious organisation, or other object
e»seedingly good in itself, but not likely
to be sufficiently appreciated by the in-
dividuals they propose to benefit Work-
ing men being proverbially free from
suspiciousness, there will be no harm in
takine steps that may raise the idea of
there oeing some ulterior object in view.
We can never do people any good until
thej are persuaded that we have some
selfish object in view, and working men
of course, are not at all in the habit of
supposing that religious people have any
sinister object at heart m the schemes
they may set on foot for their benefit.
If a public meeting is held, endeavour
to give it in some way or other a party
or sectarian character, by means of the
place at which it is held, the way in
which it is announced, or the person
invited to be chairman ; or a few roughs,
prerionsly primed with beer, which the
publican will, doubtless, gladly give
* free gratis,' judiciously placed in
different parts of the meeting, will be
able either to create a diversion, by
means of choral harmonies specially
composed for the occasion, or by inter-
rupting the speaker with a few well-
chosen questions.
With regard to the speakers, evidently
the first qualification is that they should,
be totally ignorant of the subject The
second, that they should insist upon
some extreme views of their own, and
get the meeting divided into parties or
factions in support thereof or in oppo-
sition thereto. One speaker can urge
the necessity of uncompromising and
exclusive teetotalism; another can be
equally rampant as to the necessity for
admitting beer. A strong prejudice
may be got up against the movement
among the clergy and gentry by insisting
that the dubrooms should be opened on
a Sunday, or among the working men,
by fiercely maintaining that they ought
to be entirely closed then.
Points of this and similar character,
which can only properly be decided*
after a time, by experience and by the
subscribers and meml)ers themselves,
should be pushed prematurely at the
public meeting. We have known an
influential public meeting end in smoke,
and all operations be suspended for a
year, mainly owing to one brief, prudent,
and well-timed exhortation on a ticklish
question, which, but for the purpose in
view, should only have been discussed •
before a deliberative meeting of pro-
moters and members. Contrive, if pos-
sible, that the public meeting close
without the appointment of a provi-
sional committee for carrying out its
objects, by some such speech as, 'Oh,
that can easily be done bj -and -bye, it's
getting late now;' but if the appoint-
ment be inevitable, mind and get two or
three crotchetty fellows placed upon it —
a man of extreme views, and known for
his unbusinesslike capacity, appointed
as secretary, or some gentleman disliked
by the working men, or a working man
mistrusted by the employers in the
neighbourhood.
when the question of premises has to
be discussed, urge the necessity of getting
a large building, and raising £2,000 or
£3,000, in order to do the thing * in a
way worthy of this importaut borough ;*
at least, if the notion of supposing that
the money could possibly be got is suffi-
ciently ridiculous. By diverting the
fl2
Xotices of Books.
it.4v«» ,*% V 'jcvvtaional committee
*r«*ir .:t»i.*i-tkb-»t\mbkt»A.HH*nMot*tbis nature^
d ^.tM^ itn*; ^( vmuifcblo time will be
^i»MMy iui4i»|{ which the effect of the
/^Ji»k; ftMMUti|( will weer off, zeel be
vos^tU 4c»Mu» »itU the whole concern
:k wOai>i\ bo idiclvvd for a yeer or two.
Ou 'AW v>ihor baud, preiyiises maj be
i«JbMA hi \k locality ao suitable for the
uiu-i> »uLlfocaliou of a dub, or which are
!i^ ^mdkli, dark, dirtj, and ill-Tentilated,
thȣ tho few members who go will feel
like rata in a haunted house, and be
ji^MMKiily reduced to such dismal ex-
iM>miti«M, that thejwill ere long devour
one auother or commit a double suicide,
via., on themselves and the club of
which they were the soantj ornaments.
S^uld jou ultimately be unable to
uii>f ent a canvass of the neighbourhood
for donations, get Uie donation list
headed by leading men with some very
anall sums; or you may be aUe to
frustrate the object by proposing the
application of the ' Free libraries Act'
to the town, and getting all the deter-
mined public-house frequenters, close-
fisted or unprosperous tradesmen, and
public-spiritlpd ratepayers in general, to
come up in sufficient numbers to out-
vote the stupid, misguided artisans, who
would gladly see it introdueed. Should
the proposal to apply the act be rejected,
the people of property and employers
in the neighbourhood will perhaps be
sufficiently exasperated to make this
rejection the ground of refusal to do
anything to help such a set of low-
minded, beer-loving sots as are desiring
the establishment of a working men's
club and institute.
N.B. — Prizes will, probably, ere long
be offered for preventing (uubs from
being established, or for pleasantly
smothering them if they come into
existence. — Working Mtn*s Social dubs
and Educational Institute*, By Henry
Solly.
NOTICES OF BOOKS.
On Both Sides of the Sea: A Story
of the Comm<mtDe«lth and the jRestora-
tion. By the Auliior of ' Chronicles
of the Sohonberg Cotta Family,' &c.,
&o. Pp. 508. liondon: T. iNelaon
and Sons, Paternoster Bow.
To admiring readers of the ' Draytons
and the Davenants,' by the same author,
the volume before us will be right wel-
come, for it resumes the story of those
two very interesting families, discloses
to us the fortunes of Olive and Lettioe
and Koeer and the other favourites,
(we might almost say friends) to whom
the previous volume introdueed us, and
carries on the history into the next sub-
sequent generation. We might almost
eay friends, because so weU did the
author set them before us, so masterly
draw the outlines, so skilfully fill in, so
magically make his pictures speak and
move, that we all along felt them to be
real, and to be personal friends eladly
welcomed to our heart; even although
dressed in the attire, and exhibiting the
manners, thinking the thoughts, and
responding to the events, of an entirely
byegone age. Thus, then, we were
dielighted on taking up the new volume,
to find that the author had placed in
store for us so much pleasure as further
acquaintanceship with these favourites
must give ; and the promise thus grati-
fying us at the opening of the n}Tume^
was well fulfilled in those further dis-
coveries of their thoughts, ways, and
lives which are made in *0n Both
Sides of the Sea.' In all that thia
author produces, we find the work of a
profound student of human nature, well
able to diride between what is essential^
vital, and unfading on the one hand,
and what is incidental and deciduoua
on the other; and always unable to
utter many sentences without dropping
some genuine pearls and diamonds by
the way. Ana although here and there
something falls, some expression of
opinion, some unsuccessful effort at
thought that is not worthy of much re-
gard, on the whole we know of very
few books of fiction so high and noble
in tone, so rich in wisdom, so, in every
way deserring to be placed on the table
ana taken to the very heart of every
worthy student. It is not every reader
that deserves to open such a book as
this, and Uiere are many who could no
Notices of Boohs.
m
more appx«ciate it than thej could sup-
ply a box to pat a ^[reat oitj in» or a
measaring tape of their own weaving to
E round the world, ^ut those who
▼e ejas that are open, and hearts that
know not onlj how to beat but what to
beat for, < On Both Sides of the Sea/
with the * Drajtons and the Davenants'
(to which, whilst complete in its own
interest, it serves as a continualion,) will
be gladlj placed amongst their most
special book treasures.
The Managenent of Health : A Manual
of Borne and Personal Hygeine : Being
Practical Hints on Air; Light, and
VentilaCion; Exercise, Diet, and Cloth-
ing; Best, Sleep, and Mental Dis-
eepline ; Bathino and Xherapeuties.
Bj James Baird, B. A., Author of a
< Guide to Austoalia,* &c. Pp. 108.
London : Virtue and Co., 26 Itj Lane,
Paternoster Bow.
Tbx usual rules for the management of
health are here giren in a condensed
form. They are, for the most part,
selected with good sense, but this quality
fails the compiler when he treats of
diet * Narcotics,' he says, ' used in mo-
deration, are among the creatures which
art good, to be received with thanks-
giring, let the Jeameses say what they
will to the contrary.' By the Jeameses
he means those who follow King Jamee
in his Counterblast to Tobacco ; and he
not only pleads for this narcotic, but he
also allows the * moderate ' use of ' pure
and light wines,' and * wholesome beers,'
his plea being grounded mainly on the
fact that a craving for such narcotics is
prevalent. The same sort of argument
applied to pill taking would prove him
. to be wrong in the remarks addressed
by himself to foolish people who dose
tibemselves with purgatives. He says :
'(GThe habit of incessant |)urging deserves
simple denunciation*. The existence of
this habit is proved by the immense sale
of patent medicines, and to such an ex-
tent does it prevail, that an eminent
physician writes : — " It would seem as if
people lived to have stools, and not had
stools to live. These last seem, with
large elasses of English society, to be
the alpha and omega of earthly exis-
tence; the one thing of never fading in-
terest; the much-loved object of daily
and hourly solicitude ; all the gigantic
efforts of the reasoning faculty ; all the
empyrean flights of the imaginative
faculW are postponed for the elevating
fanotion of evacuating the bowels.' All
this is absurd folly, worthy of ridicule,
were not the conseauenoes so serious.
Let those who have lallen into the prac-
tice at once give it up, and substitute
bathing, exercise and metetics, for pills,
and the benefit of the change will soon
be apparent' We thoroughly approve
of this advice.
Little Sermons for Little People. "^
Wilh'am Locke. Pp. 48. London : o.
W. Partridge, 9, Paternoster-row.
The writer says, * Having been called
upon some vears ago, as Honorary
Secretary of the Bagged School Union,
to assist in finding matter for **Omt
Children's Magazine," I put together,
in plain language, a few simple thoughta
on serious subjects ; and gave them the
form of short and simple addresses,
under the title of '' Little Sermons for
Little People." I am told they have
proved interesting and instructrve to
many. Some friends advised me to
bring them out in a little book at a small
price, thinking they would sell genemHy
among our Sunday schools, and tend to
fix more deeply in the minds of some
careless scholars the essential truths of
scripture that they hear so often from
the lips of 'their teachers.' Several
editions have already been sold. The
doctrine is that common to the * Bvaa-
gelioal' denominations.
Helena^ 8 Household : A Tale of Rome in
the First Century. Pp. 437. London :
T. Nelson & Sons, Paternoster-row.
With pencil dipped in vivid ooloura
the author of Helena's Household paints
stirring views of Borne in the first cen-
tury of the Christian era. In the out-
set, Nero is on the throne ; and in the
progress of events we are introduced to
the emperor, his court, and courtiers,
and many prominent inhabitants of the
great city : we witness the burning of
Kome ; we bleed with the persecution
of the Christians ; we behold with hor-
ror the siege and destruction of Jerusa-
lem; we rejoice in the fall of Nero;
listen with admiration to the preaching
of Paul, and pass through many other
of the famous oocurrences of that event-
ful first century ; to which are added
situations of intense interest in connec-
tion with the lives of various dramatis
persona, whose characters and history
the author describes with learning and
no mean skill. With all its merits,
however, and they are many, the tale,,
as a whole, is defective in its plan. The
94
Notices of Books.
interest is allowed to trrive at its acme
and to abate lonfr before the close of
the story is within view. There is
besides, on the whole, an undue predo>
minance of the historical, the disquisi-
tire, and the oonteraplatire elements,
over that which is most important. — the
deyelopment of character, and that
which is next in interest, — the march of
action. Xliis is all the more to be
regretted, as the book has many fine
aualities, amongst which we note a
lorough nobility of tone; indicating
both a high and a broad appreciation of
the true Christian life.
My Mother. By Ann Taylor. London :
S. W. Partridge, 9, Paternoster-row.
Thk old familiar tale of My Mother,
* Who fed me from her grntle brout,
And hutird me in her arm* to real.
And oo my clioek sweet kinea preatM.*
is here produced in a splendour which
it can nerer hare attained before. Type,
paper, binding, and illustrations are all
maj^niflccnt
2%e Gotpfl of Ptace. B? J. A. Mant.
London: KUiot Stock, 62 Pater-
nostcr-ri>w.
A LOVRLT little tale of an angel who, in
a dream, mto certain adrioe and a pro-
mise to a littlo girl : and of the manner
in whioh \\w a\UiiV wa* itirritHl out, and
ilie imMuiae fiillUloil: the end being the
deain of the ohild. and the restoration
to domoii(ii« )HViiH» of its father and
mother, wh«Mn i*trxing drink had tlireat-
♦ncni ht»|vlmwlT to divide.
TV /^i/.»*r4f; of /iVmv?/j.- or. The
A'fi.'Nty, .VfSfMiYy, ami the Inttrumen-
ftihfi i'"' < \'Hirrfion, und the conditions
t^n ^'^h'^ tt ^tff^rmU pp. 147. London:
KUiot Nt»M»li, %'»'J, l*«lt»rno»ter-row.
TiiK phtliuii«pliv of revivals is not to be
founil \\\ thiM little volume; but the
RUthoi* K*^*** 1^ Maries of explanations of
Itiii vion« ol the nature, necemity, and
inplnuunnlnhtr of convention, which
phould BrMMire* for his volume grateful
im«n|ilioii in ' Kvangolioal' circles.
7V n>iiii<'- ^11/. v'ho hfcamf a Miwon-
itr^ lirtiiij the Start/ of th« Life and
ImK^U'h of ihvU Isiii'ugttone, By
It. (t. A(liiin«: author of Our
|<Valh«M'iMl li'rtniilieN; The Young
Na«»n«li"t*'« L«l»rsry, Ao. Inmdon :
•iNi'kaHn. Wslfiuil, and Modder, 27,
|*HleniiMler rtiw. Tii. iMH.
WiMi |irUtlMt, and ntoely bound In doth
this little Tolame retraces the story of
Dr. Livingstone's most interesting career,
as far as at present known. It is founded
on the great traveller's autobiography,
and does not profess to do other than
keep pretty closely to the original nar-
rative. The composition is sometimes
diffuse and rambling, and not always
grammaticaL In other respect, too
Tolume^is rery suitable for youthful
readers.
From First to Last; or. Who toas to
Blame f A Tale founded on facts;
showing the evils of giving intoxicating
drinks to young children : Illustrated
by Fairholt, Williams, and others.
By J. P. Hodgson ; author of Emma
Gray, and other tales. Pp. 42.
London : T. T. Lemare, 1 lyy-lane,
Paternoster-row.
Tni story of a lovely child, who, through
well-meant, but foolish parental train-
ing, grew up into a woman, accustomed
to drink ; and at length died in a work-
house. It is told in an affecting manner.
Anecdotes of the Aborigines ; or^lllustrO'
iionsofthe Coloured Eaceslteing *Men
and Brethren,^ London : S. W. Par-
tridge, 9, Paternoster-row.
A COLLECTION of anccdotcs, intended to
awaken in the minds of the young a
kindly interest in our fellow creatures
' guilty of a skin not coloured like our
own.*
Assorted Handbill Packet^ containing
One and Two-Page Tracts. Stirling :
Peter Drummond. London: S. W.
Partridge and W. Kent and Co.
EvAXGELicAL tracts on the Sabbath,
racing, conyersion, and the other usual
topics. Many of the impressions are
in the forty-sixth or forty-seventh mil-
lion.
Lectures on the Turkish Bath. Deli-
yered at St. Ann's, Cork. By Kichard
Barter, Esq., M.R.C.S.E. London:
J. Bums, 1, Wellington Boad, Cam-
berwell.
Makr the reader long to rush into a
Turkish bath at once.
Illustrated Handbills. A shilling as-
sorted packet. London : S. W.
Partrid^^e.
Oil the whole, a yery capital collection
of one-page tracts, all illustrated, chiefly
on temperance, kindness to animala,
•moking, and Sabbath-keeping.
Notieet of Books.
95
Condensed Temperance Fads for Christ-
ians. With Remarks on Ancient and
Modem Wines and Malt Liquors,
By J. Mackenzie, M.D., J.P., Pro-
TOBt of Inverness, etc. London :
Trubner and Co., 60, Paternoster-row.
Ah admirable pamphlet, well adapted
for general distribution. In bis pre-
face the author says : —
In the following Obaeryations on
Alcohol, I haye to acknowledge being
rati J indebted to my friend Dr.
B. Lees, in whose numerous works
the history of intoxicants is inyestigated
in a manner that creates astonishment at
the immense amount of patient research
bestowed on it by a truly philosophical
and logioil mind, such as is rarely indeed
to be met with. I haye also profited by
studying the Word of God, by the works
of, or correspondence with, Baron Liebig,
Mulder, Lyon Playfair, Christison,
Carpenter, Day, Beaumont, Percy,
Oairdner, Johnston, Nott, and many
other writers on the same subject in
Britain, the Continent, and America ;
for yfithout the light of chemistnr and
physiology to show the action of alcohol
on the human body, abstainers can giye
no clear scientific reasons for refusing
to drink intoxicating liquors. And
without such proofs as these sciences
afford, that alcohol is altogether and
Always injurious to health, howeyer dis-
^ised under the names of wine, malt
ijquors, or cordials, it will be long ere
Christians satisfy themselyes that the
drinking usages of society are unchris-
tian^ and dangerous to our hopes of
eternal life. I haye written chiefly for
Christians — loyers of God and man —
nnder a conyiction that ignorance as to
the real action of alcohol on their
health, mentally and bodily, is the sole
reason why they hesitate - to become
Abstainers; since all must admit the
inconsistency of professing loye to God
and man, yet, at the same time, merely
to gratify a lust, or to comply with a
Aenaeless custom, deliberately acting so
•8 to injure that health of mind and
body which we receiyed from God ex-
pressly to glorify and serve Him on
earth, and be of use to our fellow-
OFeaturea.
Fourth Beport of the Manchester and
Saljord Education Aid Society. 1868.
Manchester : Guardian Office.
^Tbb committee of that admirable and
tiDDortant institution, — the Education
Aia Society, — ^report that < during the
past year the committee has entered
upon a wholly new experience. This
association was first launched in 1864,
with an abundance of money, whilst the
acquiescence of school managers had to
be sought, and scholars were wanted.
Gradually, as the society became known,
the school grants attained more general
circulation ; until in the year 1866, a
maximum of about 10,000 children of
the poor was gathered into the schools.
So long as the funds permitted it, this
steady increase of the numbers in re-
ceipt of grants was a satisfactory con-
dition, as indicatine extending useful-
ness. The original position howeyer
is now reyersed: scnolars are more
plentiful than money. The augmen-
tation of the nlimber of children aided
has not] been the sole cause of this. The
income of the society has also declined.
As the year 1867 adyanced, the dis-
parity between income and expenditure
grew so serious that it became necessary
to consider in what manner the opera-
tions of the society could best be cur-
tailed to meet its altered circumstances.'
'A special meeting of the committee was
held in July last, when the following
important resolution was passed : —
** That in the present state of the
finances the usual issue of school grants
be postponed until further notice."
The committee came to this decision
with deep regret, foreseeing that the
usefulness of the association must
thereby receiye a serious check. These
fears haye been fully realized. The
managers and masters of schools who
haye so long been accustomed to look
upon the society as a friend on whom
they could rely, haye in seyeral in-
stances keenly felt the loss. Looking
at the adyerse effects which haye re-
sulted from the discontinuance of the
issue of new grants, it is not oyer-
stating the case to say that the cause of
education in this locality has thereby
experienced a great discouragement.
One example may be giyen. The
managers of a large and important
school which sprang into existence
mainly through the prospect of support
from the Education Aid Society
(situated in the heart of a poor dis-
trict), now find themselyes in a dilem-
ma, as the withdrawal of £20 per
annum from the society inyolyes the
school really in a loss of i60 per annum,
▼iz., jC20 from the society, £20 of part
school fees from parents, and X20 of
the goyemment grant The case of the
96
Notices of BooTcs.
parents and children is equallj trying.
Maaj applications from parents seek-
ing education aid have been received.
Unfortonatalj, under present circum-
stanoes, such applications cannot be
entertained. The children themselTes,
it is to be feared, will be left to swell
the already too great nombers of the
unedocated. The actual monej dis-
tributed by the society represents but
a small part of the benefits which it
confers, as in the majority of cases the
supplementary fee paid on behalf of
inoiigent parents is multiplied. The
Booiety usually finds one part of the
Bohool fee, whilst the parent provides
the remainder. These together enable
the managers to secure tiie benefit of
the goyemment erant. Thus £S0 from
this society yields £47 per annum to
education. Since Uie commencement
of this association, in the year 1864,
about ^6,000 has been paid in school
fees ; or, according to the aboye calcu-
lation, the larffe amount of £14,000 has
been circulated in the promotion of the
edncation of the poor through the
action of the Education Aid Society.
Ko stronger argument could be fur-
niahed as an ap^al for the additional
-fonds which are required.' ,
Brdain^a Drawbacks, Being a Brief
Beview of the CMef of thou National
Errors which retard the prosperity of
our country. By Bey. Professor Kirk,
Edinbun|h. G-lasgow : Ohristian
iNews Offlce, 142, Troneate.
A yERT well oonceiyed and ably written
pamphlet, which we can yery strongly
recommend. It doseryes to be circu-
lated m millions. To all our readers
we say with hearty emphasis, Get it,
read it, and distribute it
Working Men^s Social Cluhs and Kdvr
eational Institutes. By Henry Solly,
late Secretary to the Working Men's
Club and Institute Union. Pp. 320.
London: Working Men's Club and
Institute Union, 150, Strand.
Ukqvestionablt the book on the sub-
ject. Absolutely indispensable to all
promoters of Working Men's Clubs.
Hie Life of Jews for Young People, Bj
the Editor of 'Kind Words.' Lon-
don: Henry Hall, 56, Old Bailey.
Now publishing in monthly parts. The
story simply and clearly told. The
scenery nicely illustrated.
Catalogue of Stirling Tracts, ^c,
A WONDBBFUL list of rcugious and tem-
perance publications, all the results of
the earnest philanthropic enterprise of
one man.
The Church of England Temperance
MagaMne, A monthly journal of
intelligence. London : Seeley, Jaok-
son, and Halliday, and S. W. Part-
ridge.
Sfibitxd and excellent as eyer.
Priest and Pastor, a Word in Season,
London: £. Stock, 62, Paternoster
Bow.
A WKLL-wsiTTiK non-oonfiormist pam-
phlet
Catalogue of PuhUoations, Dublin
Tract Bepoaitory, 10, D'Olier-street,
Dublin, and 9, Paternoster Bow^
London.
Why we shomld not be Poisoned b^cantse
we are Sick/ or, the Feslak Absurdity
ofBrua Medioation Exposed and Con-
fiited by the Confessions of its Most
Eminent Practitioners, Edited by
One of its Yietims. London: J.
Bums, 1, Wellington Boad, Camber-
well.
Old Jonathan, the District and Parish
Helper, Monthly. London : W. H.
Collingridge, 117 to 120, Aldersgate-
street
The Baptist JMagasine. London : Elliot
Stock, 62, Paternoster Bow.
The Scattered Nation, Edited by C.
Schwartz, D.D. London: Elliot
Stock.
The Hive; a Storehouse of Material for
Working Sunday-school Teachers,
The Church, A monthly penny maga-
zine. London: Elliot Stock.
k^
Meliora.
THE EDUCATION OP WOMEN.
THE United States of America seem destined to be the trial
ground of social theories. Almost all new ideas originate
there. Not a few old ideas, which had, as we supposed, been
abandoned long ago, have been revived there. At the present
time two remarkable experiments are being worked out there,
which involve the ultimate position of wdman in the body-
politic. In Western America she ijs being reduced to the
position which she occupied in early historical times; in
Eastern America she is claiming a place far beyond that which
has ever been accorded to her. On the shores of the great
Salt Lake she has become a mere instrument for populating
the newly inhabited district, and patriarchial life is restored
under conditions which render polygamy as much a matter of
course as when the first great emigrant went forth to take
possession of a land wherein he had not a foot of grotfnd.
On the shores of the Atlantic, where population is already
dense, and women consider a largo family a serious
calamity, they are demanding equality with men in science,
religion, and politics. In Uttth women are looked upon as
little else than breeders ; in New England they are claiming
to be teachers. In the West they bring forth the men
children who have to convert a wilderness into a fruitful land ;
in the East they lecture and agitate. In the one country
they are confined to the nursery and the kitchen ; in the other
they occupy the pulpit and the platform. Of these two
extremes we may be certain that the first will never prevail
in England. It is true that there are in this country some-
thing like a million more women than men, and that under a
system of monogamy, there must be that number of women
who cannot be married. Nevertheless England is far too
densely peopled to permit a change which is so repugnant to the
Anglo-Saxon mind that, even in the freest and most tolerant
country of the world, it is in danger of suppression by armed
Vol, 11.— No. 42. G
98 Ths Education of Women.
force. It is by no means so certain that the other change is
not close at hand. The nnmerical disproportion of the sexes re-
ferred to seems to render it inevitable. Granting that the
primary duty of women is wifehood and motherhood, wo are
met by the question. What shall these women do? — these
million women for whom there are no husbands, and who
cannot become mothers T Hitherto they have been confined
almost exclusively to two occupations, the lowest and the
highest, — ^menial service, and the education of youth; and
they have been forbidden admission to wellnigh all other em-
ployments. If we ask why this is, the answer will be little
creditable to those who are responsible for it. Of two things,
one; either we, men, deem the education of our children
80 little important that we are williag to leave it to those whom
we deem unfit for most of the functions of life, or else it is
pure selfishness which makes us ready to give up to women
work which it would be inconvenient for us to undertake,
while we exclude them from employments in which they might
become our competitors. Whatever be the cause, the result
is that, while we permit women to develope the mind, we for-
bid them to heal the body. In this case the exception proves
the rule, and the accidental admission of one or two ladies to
the ranks of the medical profession has excited the ingenuity of
the other sex to devise means for preventing the recurrence
of so portentous an event. Even in other professions the
jealousy of men is notorious. Women are indeed allowed to
become authors, for the simple reason that there is no
possibility of preventing them. They cannot be excluded
fipom the ' Eow,' as they are from the ^ College ' and the ^ Hall/
Nor does the British Museum refuse to receive their books,
as the managers of the Leeds Fine Arts Exhibition, which is
now being held, refused to receive their pictures. The result,
viewed from the man^s stand-point, is a justification of his
selfishness. In poetry, fiction, and even science, women have
fairly competed with men, and the names of Mrs. Browning,
' George Eliot,' and Mrs. Somerville, are permanent additions
to our literary roll. What is there to prevent women from
obtaining equal success in the professions, and even in politics,
though sexual jealousy views this last contingency with
dismay? ^'T;(>-.:- > <
But while we may be sure that the party in possession will
not yield it without a struggle, it is nearly certain that they
will have to yield it. The fact that women can do something
more than 'suckle fools and chronicle small beer' has been
proved ; and therefore they will not rest satisfied with these
functions. Nor is there any reason why they should. If a
The Education of Women, 99
woman is capable of being a skilful doctor, why should she
not be one, as well as a tender nurse ? In this case, especially,
the distinction between the work which a woman may do, and
that which custom forbids her to do, is so slight that it will
be impossible to maintain the existing 'hard and fast line/
It is absurd to write sentimental couplets about woman being a
' ministering angel ' when ' pain and anguish wring the brow,'
if the ministration is to be confined to preparing the poultice
and pouring out the draught, if she is to take no note of the
varying symptoms from hour to hour which no one is so well
qualified to observe as she. There is an amazing incon-
sistency in the exclusion of women from political privileges
under a sovereign who is a woman. If a woman is competent
to be at the head of the state, and to exercise her influence
in matters of domestic legislation and foreign policy — an in-
fluence that is enormous even in a constitutional country —
much more must she be competent to have a share in voting
for the 658th part of one branch of the legislature. Or, to put
the case in another way, — ^What shall we think of entrusting
the franchise to the beerhouse keeper, and withholding it from
Miss Burdett Coutts ? — of enfranchising the man whose trade
is built up on the ruined health and fortunes of his customers,
and of disfranchising the founder of bishoprics, the donor of
people's parks, the builder of churches and markets ? Is
there logic or common sense in holding the small London
tradesman competent to decide political questions, while Miss
Carpenter, the philanthropist, and Miss Martineau, the poli-
tical economist, are considered incompetent ? Such anoma-
lies as these shew that the test of sex is wholly inadequate.
Hitherto it has been said that women ought not to have the
franchise because they do not care for politics. Would men
care for politics if they had not the franchise ? The essayist
who has lately been writing in the Saturday Remew bitter
things against women because of their frivolity, would be the
last man to consent to the true remedy for frivolity — new in-
terests. We believe, however, that it was a female writer
who uttered the worst slander against her sex, when it was
said that a woman would always vote for the handsomest man,
or for him who paid her the neatest compliment, or made her
the most costly present. That there are women who would
do this is possible, for it is certain that there are men who
would vote for the candidate who gave nine pints of beer
rather than for him who would give only one gallon. But it
is doubtful if women in the mass would prove more weak or
more venal than men. If they were well grounded in politics,
and had a rational and intelligent interest in the wants of
100 The Educaiion of Women,
their own time^ and were as free to study the parliamentary
campaigns of the Victorian age as they are the Wars of the
Barons and the Boses^ they would be far better qualified to
vote than at least one half of the electors who will be on the
new register.
The present unsatisfactory position of women is partly the
cause^ partly the effect of their imperfect education. They are
unfit for the duties of citizenship^ because they are not trained
for them ; they are not trained because they are deemed unfit
for them. The same thing may be said of such education as
they do receire.. It is assumed that women need not bo
thorough in anything^ that it is enough for them to have a
smattering of a few subjects^ and the result is an education
lamentably superficial ; and because it is superficial the pupils
are never thoroughly taught. How completely teachers and
taught pursue each other through this .vicious circle is
abundantly shewn in the reports made by the assistant com-
' missioners to the Schools Inquiry Commission. The reports of
Mr. Fitch and Mr. Bryce are in this respect especially valuable,
and as they enter most completely into the whole subject of
female education, we shall do our readers a service in laying
before them remarks and suggestions, which, being contained
in one of a series of twenty blue books of some 800 pages each,
are not easily accessible.
Mr. Bryce, who was appointed to examine the schools of
Lancashire, points out that there are three motives by which
a parent is influenced in determining how much he will pay
for his sons^ education, what school ho will choose for them,
and what branches they shall learn. The first is an appre-
ciation of the worth of education, as training the mind, and
moulding the character. The second is a deference to the
opinions of persons of his own rank, which requires boys to
remain for a certain number of years at school, be taught
certain things there, and have a certain sum of money
expended upon them. The third is a desire that his sons
should get on in the world, and should therefore have the
knowledge and the sharpness that may help them to do so.
Of these three the last is the most powerful and the most
common. But in the case of girls it does not exist. Except
those daughters of small shopkeepers and publicans who are
put on market days behind the counter, and those daughters
of poor professional men who must go out as governesses,
there are no girls to whom knowledge is of practical value, —
none of whom it is supposed that the education has anything
to do with the after life. The first motive influences very
few parents as regards the sons, and still fewer as regards the
If *
k *
The Education of Women. 101
dangliters. ''Although," adds Mr. Bryce, "the world has now
existed for several thousand years, the notion that women
have minds as cultivable and as well worth cultivatiDg as men^s
minds, is still regarded by the ordinaiy British parent as an
offensive^ not to say a revolutionary paradox." It is therefore
the second or social motive that practically controls the educa-
tion of girls. Society has agreed to set a high value upon a
young lady's music, danaing, and general air of good breeding,
and a somewhat lower value upon her French and her skill in
drawing and fancy work. These, therefore, are the arts in
which parents desire that their daughters should excel. Thia
low standard, as Mr. Fitch (the assistant commissioner who
inquired into the schools of Yorkshire and Durham) points
out, is the greatest hindrance to improvement in the educa-
tion of girls. He found many a governess earnestly en-
deavounng to improve the quality of the instruction under
the great difficulties of parental apathy and discouragement.
Everywhere ho was told by the governesses that the parents
cannot ' see the use of any subject of instruction, except
plain rudiments and accomplishments. The girVs business is
not, like the boy's, to get on in life, by her own exertions, but
to get a husband. Hence she is taught the accomplishments
which will make her attractive before marriage, rather than
the solid instruction which will make her a valuable and in-
telligent companion afterwards. In fact, there is a prevalent
belief that such instruction is an actual disqualification. And
to some degree it certainly is so. A man who is himself but
imperfectly educated would be slow to choose a life-long com-
panion who is better instructed than himself. Presuming
that the husband and the vdfe have equal abilities and equal
love of knowledge, the second has an advantage over the first
in the greater leisure which she enjoys and the greater oppor-
tunities for study. It may seem a very unworthy jealousy
which would make men prefer a superficially instructed to a
really educated companion, but such jealousy does undoubtedly
exist. The consequence is that women will not iucur the
danger of spoiling their future career by a reputation for
bookishness. As marriage is always considered the end and
object of their lives for which all other considerations should
be sacrificed, it is easy to see how small are the chances of
their undergoing the labour of acquiring knowledge which
will in their opinion injure far more than aid them. Mothers
are acutely sensible of this consideration^ and their views, as
represented to Mr, Bryce by the schoolmistresses, were in-
variably the same. ' They ' (the mothers), say the mistresses,
' are profoundly indifferent to their daughters' diligence, (as a
102 The Education of Women.
moral quality) or to their progress in the more solid branches
of an English education. If a girl begins to get interested in
the school-work, and is seen in the evening busy over her
theme, her mother comes to me and says "Now miss,
you must not make Augusta a blue/*' 'If I report that
another does not try to improve herself in arithmetic,
the mother says, — " Well, you know, I am anxious about
her music of course, but it really does not matter about
her arithmetic, does it ? Her husband will be able to do all
her accounts for her, you know/' I find people who are willing
to pay £2. 12s. 6d. for twelve dancing lessons, grumbling if
they are asked to pay £3. 3s. for a quarter's English, including
all the regular school work. To those of us who are conscien-
tious, and wish to do the best for the mind and character of
our pupils, school-keeping is a thankless and troublesome
task.' To those who are content to float with the stream,
putting the names of eminent ^ accomplishment ' masters in
the prospectus, and leaving the rest of the teaching to ill-paid
governesses, it is an easy one. Of course, the first are the
few, the second are the many. Of the schools conducted by
the latter, Mr. Fitch gives us a vivid but melancholy picture.
The first thing which he noticed was that girls' schools are
much smaller than boys'. The average number of pupils in
one of the first is but twenty-five. This fact is due partly to
the parents' belief that a small school is more like a home than
a large one, and that the pupils in the first are more likely to
obtain attention and a regard to individual peculiarities than
they would be in the second. It is due also in no small
measure to the greater jealousy which is felt with regard to
the daughters' than the sons' school associates. A boy will
be sent to a grammar school, in which are boys of all ranks ;
such an arrangement would be considered highly objectionable
for a girl. Then again, school-mistresses generally shrink from
the responsibility of superintending a large establishment.
They aim rather to raise their terms than to increase their
numbers. The result is that girls' schools are much more
expensive than boys'. They ought to bo loss expensive,
seeing that women who do a given amount of work are satis-
fied with a smaller remuneration than men, and that the ex-
penses of a household consisting entirely of female inmates
need not be so great. Nevertheless, relatively to the advan-
tages purchased, and the teaching power employed, much
more is always charged for girls than for boys. If a lady is to
obtain even a humble livelihood out of the profits on twenty or
twenty-five pupils, she must make a large demand on each ;
consequently, the 'extras' form a formidable item in the
The Education of Women, 103
scliool bills. Taking the typical bills which Mr. Fitch
sapplies^ we find that one-third of the whole sum paid
for education, apart from boarding, is for ^general school-
work/ and two-thirds for the extras or ' accomplishments.^
' Nothing/ says Mr. Fitch, ' can well be more extravagant than
the waste of money and of educational resources in these small
schools. There is little hfe, no collective instruction, and
nothing to call forth the best powers of either teacher or
learner in a school where each class consists of two or three
pupils only. Even if a teacher were highly qualified she
would in time grow dispirited and mechanical under the sense
that she was frittering away her strength in small efforts^ and
producing results so insignificant in proportion to them. But
the teachers are not highly qualified.' Mr. Fitch estimates
that the number of governesses who have been educated with
a view to the work, and who contemplated it as a profession,
is very small, not more than six or seven per cent. The
majority of schoolmistresses are women who wish to get a
living without loss of position, and who, considering teaching
to be 'genteel,* enter upon it without any qualifications.
Boarders being more profitable than day scholars, the school-
mistress lays herself out for the first, and hence the greater
number of girls are for a number of years consigned to a con-
ventual kind of life, and lose the advantages to be derived
from the more healthy and natural atmosphere of an orderly
home in which there are father, mother, and brothers.
The artificialness of the boarding-school life is not the worst
of its defects, for that is capable to a great extent of being cor-
rected when the girPs school years are over. A more serious
defect is the want of systematic discipline. The rule is generally
lax, the pupils are usually dawdling. It is for this reason that
the use of masters is desirable. Beally, this resort to male
tuition is a confession that the schoolmistresses are imperfectly
trained. A woman ought to make a better toacher than a
man, because she has quicker sympathies, and a greater
facility in communicating what she knows. But unfortunately
her knowledge is meagre and indefinite, and she does not
seem to possess the same power of enforcing attention and
inciting to industry that a man does. Up to a certain age the
pupil will perhaps be as amenable to the mistress as to the
master; but afler that — that is after twelve or thirteen—,
girls win certainly pay more deference to the second, pro-
bably because he is more exigent. The system of giving
lectures is one of very questionable utility. The lecturer has
a very miscellaneous syllabus to begin with. One school-
mistress said to Mr. Fitch, 'My young people take great
104 The Education of Women.
interest in science. We have a lecturer who comes weekly
during the season, and gives us courses on astronomy,
heraldry, (!) botany, and architecture. Sometimes, too, when
it is quite fine, we go out and pluck flowers, and afterwards
dissect them and have a lesson on their parts.^ Only a person
utterly ignorant of science could suppose it possible to teach
any one of these subjects, much less all four, in a series of a
dozen lectures. The little that the lecturer might do he does
not attempt. Instead of laying down definite principles which
might be afterwards applied by the pupils themselves, he
ffeneraUy shoots far above their heads with poetic generalisation
about science, and avoids detail of any kind. The day of
lecture is, however, an incident to relieve the monotony of the
convent-like life. '^ Other lessons are put away, dress is
specially attended to, and the young ladies ranged in close order
sit and smile rather as spectators at a festal exhibition than as
students.^' This is but an illustration of the superficial
character of girls' education. Up to a certain point the
instruction is as systematic as that of boys. But beyond that
point all is desultory and aimless. There is nothing bracing,
nothing demanding close attention or a concentration of powers.
Shakspere and Milton may be read with pleasure, out no
attempt is made to understand the archaic words or the
allusions. Even in the best schools the highest ideal seems
to be to produce 'well-informed women,' but it does not
enter into the scheme to make them thinkers, or to encourage
the pursuit of truth as truth. If we take up the subjects
that are generally taught, we shall find the superficiality
mentioned above pervading each. Needlework degenerates
into the sirenua inertia of ' fancy work,' which takes the form
of ' tatting,' and ' crochet ' in low church, and of altar cloth
embroidery in high church schools. French is not taught
grammatically, and much more is thought of a pure accent
than of grammatical accuracy. Music is taught indis-
criminately to girls whether they have an ear or not, and to
this ' accomplishment ' they devote an inordinate amount of
time. Drawing is not so universally taught, and, where it is,
the great object seems to be to turn out sketches that may bo
shewn at home, and which, by their high finish, always betray
the drawing master's handiwork. The 'finishing' school is
just like all other schools, except that the charges are higher
and the pupils therefore more ' select.' Altogether it is not
only possible, but highly probable, that a girl whose education
has cost £700 will leave school knowing absolutely nothing,
if by knowing we mean comprehending and grasping a subject.
"^ wiU sing, play the piano, get through a piece of worsted
The Echieaiion of Women. 105
work, know enough French to ask the price of a pair of gloves
in a Paris shop, retain for a few years a certain number of
dates and disjointed facts, and find the latitude and longitude
of a place on the globe. All the rest is nought.
It is not surprising that this state of things should exist,
nnsatisfactory though it be. The small importance attached
to female education in former times is shown by the fact
that whereas the Schools Commissioners found 820 endowed
schools existing for the education of boys, they found only
twenty existing for the education of girls. The same in-
difference shewn in medisBval and post-mediaoval times was
exhibited in a very remarkable manner only a few months
ago, when the great scheme for middle-class education in
London was started without any provision for the teaching of
girls. There seems to have been a general consensus of
opinion that education is not adapted for women, and that
women are not adapted for education. Assuming that domestic
life is their only occupation, learning is supposed to be incom-
patible with it. Unfortunately the instruction given is not
suitable even for this standard.
' I cannot,' b&jb Mr. Fitch, < find that any part of the training given in the ladies'
aehoola educates them for domestic life, or prepares them for duties which are
•apposed to be speciidlj womanly. I am repeatedly told that the cooking, the
goremment of servants, the superintendence of their work, the right management
of the parse, and the power to economise all the resources of a household, are
of more importance to a girl than learning. All this is confessedly true. But
then these tmn^ are not taught in schools, nor are the laws of health, the ele-
■MDts of chemistry, the physiology which would be helpful in the case of chil-
dren, the politiod economy which would preserve ladies from mistakes in dealing
with the poor, nor any, in short, of those studies which seem to stand in a close
relation to the work a woman has to do in the world. Everywhere the fact that
the papil ii to become a woman and not a man operates upon her course of
ilndj negatively not positively. It deprives her of the kimd of teaching which
boys have, but it gives her little or nothing in exchange. It certainly does not give
her any exceptional teaching adapted to her career as a woman.'
It is to the credit of the teachers that the attempt to im-
prove this most inefficient tuition should have been made in the
first place by them. The supply has, in fact, preceded the
demand, the market has been furnished with a better article
than was asked for. The schoolmistresses have shewn the
parents a more excellent way, often in vain, though, at last,
even match-making mothers are beginning to doubt if the
'accomplished^ ignoramus — the girl who can sing, and
dance, and draw, and read a French novel, but who knows
nothing of the literature and the history of her own coun-
try, and nothing of any single branch of science — ^is, after
all, the highest type of girlhood per se, or, which is more
to their purpose, the type that young men prefer. It is in-
106 The Education of Women.
tercsting and not a littlo amusing^ to see how whole tons
of theory, with regard to the mental capacity of girls, are
being ont-balanced by an onnce of fact. The extension of
the University local examinations to girls has extinguished a
whole host of popular notions of most venerable antiquity. To
Cambridge the merit of this great achievement is due. The
authorities of the University proceeded boldly, and yet
cautiously, in their somewhat startling innovation. Five years
ago they gave permission to a voluntarily formed committee to
conduct a trial examination of girls with the same papers as
had been used for boys. The result was so successful that
they followed up this experiment by admitting female candidates
to the examination of male candidates. This change seemed
to supply just what was wanting in the education of girls ; it
gave a stimulus to the pupils and system to the teachers. At
the trial examination, above mentioned, 90 per cent, of the
candidates failed in arithmetic, but two years later all but three
of the candidates passed. The report of the Syndicate of the
University, for 1867, is full of most gratifying evidence in
support of the equal capacity of girls to that of boys. The
report says, for instance : ' In Shakspere the girls were again
successful, and on the whole more than the boys. In religious
knowledge the work was in general well done. In the
papers on the Horoc Paulirtce, on the catechism, and on
Whatoly^s Evidences, the girls excelled the boys. Three
seniors attempted Greek, all of whom passed. Five out of
scvon seniors, six out of eight juniors passed in Latin. In
Frcjiich eighty-four out of eighty-eight juniors, seventy-two out
of Kovonty-four seniors, passed; — and of the juniors the girls
trail slated with far greater spirit than the boys, and were equally
superior in handwriting and spelling. Twelve seniors and ten
juniors passed in German, six of each division obtained marks
of distinction, none failed. Two seniors and one junior ob-
taiiHid ninotoon-twcntieths of the marks. The examiner
waH much gratified with the work sent up.^ The report
furlJior states that girls ' are not tempted by the hope of ob-
taining a place in the Honour Classes to try a great variety
of Hiihjoijts ; comparatively few take the full number of sections
allowod/ Tlio characteristic mental difference of the sexes
Ih fliuM illustratod in the same report : —
' TUtt \)rni hnyn write with Tigour and precisioDi the best girls with ease and
f\}nu\iiy, T\u^ hoyii wi^ro for the most part content to retail information derired
froiri uiiiokN, or to dAMcribo the process of some branch of manufacture, — ^the girls
w«r» nu§iw to niprom their own views, and were most successful when thej
ittuli(Mvoijrml Ui trace their own intellectual phases, or to depict the trifling incidents
uf ttyory'tUy life*'
'l^hiii year's examination is 'equally encouraging with its
Tlie Edtication of Women, 107
predecessors/ Girls were examined in Latin, Greek, Euclid,
Algebra, Trigonometry, Conic Sections, Mechanics, and Po-
litical Economy, as well as the more usual subjects. The
examiner in Euclid, who is the examiner for the whole of
England, stated that the girls seemed able to distinguish with
far more readiness between the essential and the formal por-
tions of a proof than the boys. This is quite in accordance
with the reports of some of the assistant commissioners. For
instance — Mr. Gifford, who inspected the extra-metropolitan
portion of Surrey, and the County of Sussex, mentions that in
a proprietary school, in which boys and girls were working
side by side in the same class, he found the girls quite as pro-
ficient in Euclid as the boys. To put against this, we have
the remarkable statement made by the same gentleman, that
the singing of boys in class is more correct than that of girls,
although this has hitherto been deemed almost exclusively a
female accomplishment.
Akin to the university local examinations are the examina-
tions of individual schools. It is probable that the second
plan will not be practicable to any large extent for some years
to come. The assistant commissioners give different informa-
tion on this point. One says that the higher class of school-
mistresses would gladly have their work tested by this means.
Another describes the almost ludicrous alarm with which even
his general questions as to the conduct of the school were
received, and the indignant resentment with which the
mistresses resisted such 'inquisitorial^ investigations. We
do not anticipate that either boys^ or girls^ schools will submit
to formal examinations for some time to come. The university
examiners will always be more popular, because the teachers
can always send up their picked pupils. It is for this very
reason tlmt the examination of the schools is so much more
desirable, and would be so much more efficient.
It is satisfactory to find that the old prejudices against in-
stmcting girls in the higher branches of study are fast disap-
pearing. The main objection — that such instruction injures
a girPs marriage prospects— »-still exists to a lamentable degree,
but it is not so universal as it was. As Mr. Fitch well says :
' It would be a strange commentary on our present system of
education if it could be proved that the studies which are sup-
posed to elevate and refine men, had an opposite effect on the
other sex.' The fact is, that even if our aim in instructing our
daughters be solely to train thorn morally, we shall best reach
that aim by training them intellectually. The most formidable
enemy to a high moral standard is mental vacuity. To with-
draw a girPs mind from what is frivolous and to kindle her in-
108 The Ed/ucation of Women.
terest in serions and thouglitfal study^ is ike surest way to defeat
that adversary of whom the nursery couplet says that he always
finds mischief for idle hands to do. If men in choosing their
wives would remember this they would spare themselves much
disappointment, no little sorrow, and sometimes downright
shame. The ignorant wife is the frivolous woman whose only
resources are shopping and scandal ; the first is a very costly
employment, as many a husband suddenly surprised with a long
milliner^s bill can testify ; the second is, at best, a mischievous
and not unfrequently a dangerous occupation, tempting the
teller of scandal to be at last the actor. The fear which men
yrho are not so foolish as to be jealous of their wives' acquire-
ments entertain that learning spoils their chief charm, modesty,
and converts them into those most insufferable of all beings,
female prigs, is not borne out by facts. It is quite untrue, says
Mr. Fitch, that ' the schools in which the intellectual aim is
highest shew any deficiency in good breeding. It happens
that the finest manners I ever saw among young people, — the
most perfect self-possession, modesty, and freedom from
affectation, were in a class of girls who were brought to me to
demonstrate a proposition in Euclid.' In truth there is
nothing which humbles so much as the attainment of know-
ledge. It is only when we begin to learn that we discover
how ignorant we were and are. The more we learn the more
we find we have to learn. It is the mountaineer, not the idle
saunterer in the plain, who most truly appreciates the height
of the mountain. Women being naturally more modest than
men, will be even less likely than they to be puffed up by
learning. The physical argument against education has a
little, but only a very little, more foundation than the moral.
Women have not, it is true, the strength of men, and perhaps
would break down more quickly under the severe strain of an
examination for the India civil service, or for one of the higher
degrees at the London university. It is for this reason that
the advocates of examinations deprecate the publication of olass
lists for girls. They say that these find quite sufficient stimulus
in the desire to obtain a certificate of merit, and that it is
unnecessary to introduce the element of personal rivalry. In
fact they adopt the Oxford rather than the Cambridge system
so far as they classify at all. It is a question gravely discus-
sed if the former is not the better system for young men as
well as for girls. No doubt it is desirable that girls who read
for an examination should have a proper physical training.
The first is likely to bring about the second. At present botn
factors are wanting. Neither mind nor body is really educa-
ted, and the result is that a girl, when she leaves school, is
The Education of Women, 109
too oflen vapid and weakly, and takes to reading French
noTols on a sofa, as the most suitable employment for an
emp^ brain and a feeble spine. Miss Beale, the principal of
the Cheltenham Ladies' College, puts the point well when, in
her evidence, she says, 'That for one girl who suffers from over
work, there are' hundreds who suffer from the feverish love of
excitement, and the irritability produced* by idleness, and
fnvolity, and discontent. I am persuaded,' she adds, ' and
my opinion has been confirmed by experienced doctors, that
the want of wholesome occupation lies at the root of much of
the languid debility of which we hear so much after girls have
left school.'
A higher standard of teaching necessarily involves better
schools and better teachers. It is more easy to improve the
first than the second. One great fault of existing schools has
been well pointed out by Miss Wolstenholme, the proprietor
of a private school near Manchester. The small size of most
girls' schools hinders their efficient management, because the
fees which are required to obtain efficient teachers fall heavily
on the parents, when there are only a few between whom the
amount can be distributed. The establishment of large day
schools in all important tb^vns would be of gi'eat service. •
Girls, no doubt, will be best brought up at home, so far as
domestic training is concerned. The life of the boarding
school is too artificial to bo wholesome. If, therefore, it wore
possible to send girls to a large and thoroughly good school
every day, they would obtain the best education from the most
efBcient masters at a moderate cost, as boys do ; and they
would not be consigned for some six or seven years to a somi-
conventual life. Such a school is the Ladies' CoUesre at
Cheltenham, with its 1 30 pupils ; such, too, is Miss Buss's
North London Collegiate School, with its 200 jjupils. Even
in small towns the experiment has been tried on a restricted
scale. The Rev. F. V. Thornton has, for instance, established
at Callington, a Cornish town of some 2000 inhabitants,
a school which the children of both sexes and all classes
attend, all being educated together, and with the best results.
The Rev Mark Pattison, rector of Lincoln College, Oxford,
has suggested that an institution should be established in
every large town and populous neighbourhood, where syste-
matic courses of lectures, at a moderate fee, should be given to
girls after their governess education is over, the institution to
be of local origin, and locally managed by ladies, but under a
central board in London. Of course the improvement of
schools now will have as one most important result, the im-
provement of teachers ten or fifteen years hence. At the
110 The Edv^cation of Women.
samo time this amelioration is not all the change that is re-
quired. We need some test by which the fitness to teach
may be ascertained. We may establish good schools^ but we
cannot compel all girls to go there; nor can we provide
against the adoption of teachership as a pis aller, by women
who have been driven by the death of parents, or the loss of
money, to enter thiD profession as a means of liveHhood. The
only safeguard which can be offered is the examination and
certificate system. If the duty of examining governesses, and
certifying those who were competent, were on'ce committed to
some competent authority, the dij£culty would be surmounted.
It would be of small importance that the examinations were
voluntary, so far as the state was concerned. Practically
they woidd soon cease to be voluntary. The public would
compel governesses to undergo the examination, by refusing
to employ those who could not produce proofs that they had
Jassed it. This, we think, is clear, even from the evidence of
[r. Eobson, secretary of the College of Preceptors. Although
he was strongly in favour of a Compulsory School Registration
Act, similar to the Medical Registration Act, he could not,
on cross-examination by the commissioners, shew how such
an act could be applied without inflicting great hardship and
involving unnecessary interference ; and at the same time he
admitted that, even though the number of teachers who had
submitted to examination by the college wa^ very small^ it
was increasing, and the public were beginning to estimate at
its right value the worth of a college certificate, A new
scheme like this necessarily takes considerable time to obtain
proper recognition, but in such a case the beginning is half
the battle. When such an institution commences to be recog-
nised, it will, if it deserves general recognition, speedily obtain
it. Moreover, it must be remembered that it is only within
the last four or five years of the twenty-two during which the
College of Preceptors has existed, that public attention has
been aroused to the unsatisfactory nature of English middle-
class education. It is to be hoped, therefore, that the in-
fluence of the college will now rapidly increase, unless^
indeed, some institution with greater reputation should un-
dertake the work that is so urgently required. As we
write, a petition has been presented to the Vice-Chan-
cellor and the Senate of the University of Cambl^dge,
praying that body to undertake the examination of women
above the age (18), which is now the limit for candidates at
the university local examinations, with the view of granting
certificates that would be a guarantee of fitness to teach. The
memorialists include some of the leading female educationists
The Education of Women. Ill
in the country, and their prayer is supported by many of the
most distinguished members of the university. By granting
this prayer the university would add another to the claims it
has lately made upon our gratitude, as a great national institu-
tion which is yearly becoming more alive to the incalculable
good it may effect by conferriug upon the whole country the
benefit formly confined to a small class. If the universities
will undertake the onerous, but noble, task of examiners for
the nation, they need not fear the result of any changes,
however great and however dreaded. They will be founded
upon the rock of national gratitude too surely to be shaken by
the temporary blast of popular clamour.
At the commencement of this article we referred to one
especial branch of women's education, the training of female
medical practitioners. The annual meeting of the Female
Medical College, which has been held in London while we
have been writing, renders it desirable that we should say a
few words upon an institution commanding our warmest
sympathy. The profession of medicine was formerly open to
every one, just as veterinary surgery is now ; but, in process
of time, as the healing art became more and more of a science,
certain societies and corporations, such as the Apothecaries'
Company and the College of Surgeons, instituted examinations
and obtained power to confer diplomas. By degrees the per-
missive systctm became a compulsory one. Eventually the
Medical Be^stration Act was passed a few years ago, and
thus rendeired more rigid than ever the submission to exami-
nation as a condition of the right to practice. There is no
doubt that this change has, in the main, been a vast improve-
ment upon the old days when the barber and the surgeon
were one and the same person. But there was one branch of
practice, midwifery, which could not be thus restricted. It
was found impossible to forbid women to act as midwives, for
the simple reason that the poor are unable to pay for the
aervices of quahfied accoucheurs. Moreover, this was a
department so little lucrative that the profession did not
care to monopolise it. Consequently, while women were
rigorously excluded from the highly paid branches of medi-
cine and surgery, they were left in undisturbed enjoyment
cf the ill-rewarded obstetric practice. Until lately these
je$femme8 have been of the lowest class, both socially and
ih^^ectually. The Female Medical College is intended to
ide a higher class, to instruct ladies in fact in a profession
wliich was, until the time of Louis XV., exclusively their own.
In doing this a double object is obtained. Qualified female
attendance is offered to women of all classes^ at a time when it
112 The Education of Women.
is pecnliarlj fitting that female rather than male assistance
shoold be ofiered ; and a new career is opened to many women
who are for ever complaining, and with reason, of the few
employments which masculine monopoly has left open to them.
Thus far the College, which has been established in Fitzroy-
square, London, has been exceedingly successful. At the first
annual meeting just held, it was stated that there were sixty-
nine enrolled students, and of these many have already
settled in practice, and have succeeded so admirably, that
amongst a large number of cases which they have attended,
not a single death or casualty has occurred. The College has
wisely refrained from connecting itself with what is called the
Woman's Eights Question. It is desirous of receiving the
support of those who would not be prepared to adopt what we
may term Social Radicalism. Moreover, it is important that
the College should not set itself in antagonism to the medical
profession, since it is to the members of that profession that
female medical students must look for instruction during some
years to come. At the present time lectures are given by
well-known professors. The number of students has increased
so rapidly that there is every reason to expect that the College
will shortly be self-supporting. It is now purposed to raise a
special fund of £1,000 for obtaining a Royal Charter, or Act of
Parliament, by which the College would be empowered to grant
diplomas. At present the students have the opportunity of
becoming practically acquainted with their work by attendance
at the Lying-in Hospital, in Endell- street, Bloomsbury. The
readers of Meliora will be particularly interested in knowing
that Dr. Edmunds, who is the chief founder of the College,
and a warm supporter of the temperance movement, has
succeeded in eliminating alcohol from the treatment of lying-
in women, and that those accustomed hitherto to their beer
or stout, have learnt experimentally and to their great surprise,
that their recovery is much more favourable under a milk than
under an alcohol regimen.
There is one other institution which we must notice, though
as yet it is rather a project than a reality. It is proposed to
establish for women, a college, in the Oxford sense of the
term. The scheme contemplates the erection of a large build-
ing within 100 miles of London, capable of holding 100
students, and calculated to cost £30,000. The resident
authorities are to be women, but the various classes will be
taught by either men or women, as may be found desirable.
Local residence will bo made an indispensable condition, and
it is intended that the college course, including board and
lodging, shall not cost more than £80 a year. Some eminent
Tlie Education of Boys. 113
persons have come forward to assist the scheme, and the
council includes the Bishop of St. David's, Lady Churchill,
the Dean of Ely, Lady Eastlake, Mr. Llewellyn Davies (who
has described the project in Maoinillwi's Marjazine, for June),
Mr. Gorst, M.P., the Recorder of London, Mr. Paget, Miss
Swanwick, Miss Greenwell (author of the Life of Lacordaire),
and Miss Davies, the honorary secretary. One lady, Mrs.
Bodichon, has headed the subscription list with £1,000, and
many other subscribers have given £100 each. It is, as yet,
too early to say if this somewhat bold, and certainly most
interesting scheme, will succeed. We shall, at least, wish it
success, even those of us who most firmly hold with the
author of ' The Princess/ that
-Woman is not undevelopt man.
But diverse : could we make her as the man,
Sweet love were slain : hiB dearest bond is this,
Not like to like, but like in difference.
Yet in the long years liker must they grow ;
The man be more of woman, she of man ;
He gain in sweetness and in moral height,
Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world :
She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care.
Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind ;
Till at the last she set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words/
THE EDUCATION OF BOYS.
IN one sense, more than either extension of the franchise or
the Irish Chnrch, education is, and ought to bo, the
question of the day. The generation now rising up will most
imperfectly perform their duties as electors, and will be unable
to form a really sound judgment on any momentous or dis-
puted subject, if they remain contented with a culture so
sordid and superficial that it is barely one degree bettor than
blind ignorance. The elaborate report of the schools inquiry
commission will, when complete, fill twenty-one volumes, and
will supply an enormous mass of valuable information and
suggestion, well calculated to form a text-book for real
reformers in future times. What has been already published
proves, in a clear and positive manner, the existence of a state
of things which most thoughtful men have at least suspected,
but which is, to say the least of it, deplorable. For want of
knowledge, energy, and organisation, we have allowed our
educational machinery to get altogether out of gear, and we
stand face to face with a wasteful and barren expenditure of
Vol. U.—No. 42. H
114 TJie Education of Boys.
means provided by noble charities, with ignorant scholars,,
careless parents^ dulled and disheartened efforts on the part
of the masters, and, with bnt few exceptions, parents, pupils, and
teachers all singularly apathetic. For the wealthy, a good
education can no doubt be obtained at our large public schools
aided by the universities ; for the poor, the privy council schools
in large towns are doing excellent work ; but for the middle
and lower middle classes, which, after all have practically ruled
the country for more than a score of years, there are literally
no decent schools provided to which a man may send his son
with the certainty that for a reasonable sum a good and sound
education — either primary or secondary — ^will be given. In
the present article we propose to examine that portion of the
subject which refers to the state of education in the manu-
facturing districts, more especially in Manchester and Liver-
pool, and the condition of the endowed or grammar schools, as
well as of the proprietary and private adventure schools, and
to arrive at some conclusion as to what they actually effect for
the pupils who use them, chiefly the sons of shopkeepers,
clerks, foremen, petty manufacturers, and professional men of
moderate incomes.
With regard to endowed schools, these are in all conscience
rich and numerous enough. Mr. Fitch's report is perhaps the
clearest in arrangement, and the most fertile in suggestion for
schemes of improvement that has yet appeared; it also
possesses a valuable addition in the shape of an educational
map, to which we recommend attention. This gentleman
visited upwards of sixty endowed schools in the West Eiding
of Yorkshire, besides a multitude of seminaries of other kinds ;
and Mr. Bryce reports on about the same number in Lanca-
shire. As might be expected from the antiquity of the founda-
tion of many of the endowed schools, the decay of some places,
the rise and progress of others, with the shifting of population
in these days, it has come to pass, that these schools are often
in remote places, where the inhabitants are few and decreasing,
or in cathedral towns where, at most, the population is station-
ary in numbers ; while in manufacturing towns, the prosperity
and population of which have increased enormously within a
very few years, there is & great deficiency of endowment.
Thus Giggleswick, a village joined with Settle, having 2000
and odd inhabitants, possesses about £1,200 per annum ;
York, with 40,000 and odd, has about £2,654 per annum for
education ; while Huddersfield, Middlesbro', Dewsbury, &c.,
are unprovided for. The same sort of thing occurs in Lanca-
fthire, of which Blackrod and Middleton are instances ; both
possess endowed schools with exhibitions attached, but they
The Education of Boys. 115
have Kterally no scholars to take advantage of them. K we
inquire how far these schools carry out the will of the founders,
and whether, if they have departed therefrom, it has been for
the advantage of the school, and with a view to meet the wants
of the age, the answer is as unsatisfactory as can be. Hardly
any comply with the letter, few with the spirit of the founder^s
will, and any alterations have been uniformly made to the dis-
advantage of education. The founders have usually ordained
the study of Greek and Latin, simply because, in their days,
that was the best learning known. Out of sixty schools,
thirty-one afford instruction of the same pretensions as a
national school ; about twenty-five are steadily decaying ; five
or six only have taken a new lease of life. Even on the books
of these sixty schools there are only 3,510 scholars; the
number actusJly in attendance fall far short of this estimate.
Of these, twenty-nine per cent, professed to learn Latin, and
seventeen per cent. Greek, yet about thirteen per cent, only
could actually read a simple passage from a Latin writer.
Hardly any school has its foil complement of scholars ; not-
withstanding this, the buildings are mostly so ill ventila-
ted, cramped, and small, that often the atmosphere is of the
worst kind. Sometimes two or three pupils will represent
the whole school; the master, of course, pocketing his
salary as usual. In many, the privileges of scholarships
and exhibitions at the universities have lapsed from disuse.
Some almost incredible examples of the shameful abuse of the
charities are mentioned in the report (Vide. p. 156, 177, 132,
127). In fact the endowed schools do not fit anything like
20 per cent, of their pupils for the universities, and it is esti-
mated that, on the whole, parents so far distrust the grammar
schools that three-fourths prefer placing their children at private
schools. One of the first points which influences a school is
the constitution of the governing body, but in many cases the
trustees are too few, or incompetent, or absentees, are deficient
in local knowledge, or in energy. The rule which permits a
certain number of them to die out without renewal is not
likely to produce an efficient board. A case is mentioned
wherein out of twelve there were but three living, and of these
two were paralytic and the third imbecile. It is in the selec-
tion of the trustees that, in Lancashire especially, a most
beneficial alteration might be made. There is a larger ad-
mixture of Nonconformists and Catholics in the population
than in most counties, but it is the rule in practice, though
not of necessity, to elect the trustees from members of the
English Church only, and hence the parents of boys of other
denominations feel themselves unjustly deprived of any share
116 The Education of Boys,
in the government of these schools, and send their children
elsewhere. It is pleasant to find that as respects the actual
management of the fands there has been more carelessness
than dishonesty. Often the monies have accumulated, and
the lands been greatly improved, while the school-house has
been left miserably ill ventilated, and mean in appearance, as
at Bolton and Oldham. The scholars as a consequence fall
off rapidly. Here the trustees have obviously misunderstood
their primary duty. The commissioners report that in many
places the trustees, masters, and parents alike were desirous
of improving the school, but were ignorant of the mode of
obtaining the necessary powers. The Court of Chancery they
had learned to dread and distrust ; to Parliament they never
dreamed of applying ; and, though they knew vaguely that
the Charity Commissioners had some kind of authority, there
was no one on their side able and willing to take active steps
in the matter. Moreover, though the masters are sometimes
obstructed by the board, the board often find their hands
tied by the master. The office of the last is sometimes re-
garded as a freehold property. He may not do his duty, but
the board can neither stop his salary, dismiss him, nor turn him
out of his house. He is, indeed, bound to teach Greek and
Latin gratuitously, but he may charge fees for all other
instruction. In some instances, therefore, we find it stated
that he deliberately chokes off all the non-paying boys
in order to enlarge his emoluments; in others, he prefers
indolence, and teaches the boys in such a slovenly, de-
sultory way that hardly any children come to him, and
he enjoys his salary in peace. Again, he is sometimes a
university man, able and ready to teach Latin, Greek, and
mathematics, but the neighbourhood is poor and thinly popu-
lated, and the parents who send their boys do not desire that
kind of teaching. There is an obvious tendency to a falling
off in the social standing of the scholars at grammar schools.
Those men who were themselves educated there send their
sons either to more celebrated schools or to private seminaries,
and shopkeepers prefer the latter in order to obtain some
imaginary advantages- in commercial education. The master
may be a scholar, occasionally a really able man, and with
(though rarely) a natural capacity for teaching, but he has no
competent staff to teach and train those children who are
sent to him in what they ought to learn, and the others do
not come to bo taught what he really could teach them. It is
satisfactory to find that the religious difficulty is small, and
that where in large towns there is sectarian animosity, it is
more often owing to political antagonism than anything else.
^riie Education of Boys. 117
In the smaller towns and open districts Protestant parents
do not demand any distinctive dogmatic teaching for their
children, but do not object to it so long as it is not forced
upon them. At the same time ^they desire, though not
earnestly, that religion should in some general way be recog-
nised in the school/ On this account the catechism is some-
times objected to, but the Scriptures hardly ever. If any
dissentients are found, it is among the Catholics or Unitarians,
Mr. Bryce found one small grammar school where both the-
trustees and head master were Unitarians, but many of the
scholars were of the Church of England. In another, manageft.
by a Baptist congregation, the master also being a Baptist,
the children were of all denominations, including the Roman-
Catholic. This school, oddly enough, was founded by an
Enghsh clergyman. A third was managed by the Society of
Friends, the master was a member of the Society, but not
one of the pupils was j two were Catholics, and the majority
were of the Church of England. It is evident that in these
small rural endowed schools good primary education is the
thing really wanted, and that there are no reasons for having
as a master, for boys' never designed to go to Oxford or Cam-
bridge, a university man who can only teach Latin and Greek,
where such teaching is not desired, or who is a clergyman
of the Established Church, whilst his scholars are of all
denominations. At the head of a great school it is otherwise,
but as master to a school of the kind alluded to such a man
is simply out of place. Mr. Fitch puts this very strongly : —
• Pour of the worst scbools I ever saw in my life were conducted by clergymen.
They were nominally grammar scbools, but no Latin or Greek was taught in them.
They were the only schools in their respectiTe villages, and they were filled with
the children of the poor. As to methods and results, the work was such as would
haTe disgraced a pupil teacher in his first year. A clergyman attempting to do the
work of an elementary teacher is always in a false position : ho rarely does it well,
or possesses much sympathy with beginners. His habits of mind unfit him for
smali details and for the drudgery of elementary work. He has seldom studied
the art of teaching. Indeed, he generally looks down with contempt on the
methods by which a trained teacher would win the attention of his pupils, and
thinks, not unnaturally, that his own university standing makes him independent
of such artifices. * * * Any indirect educational influence proceeding from
the mere presence of a gentleman and a scholar among the boys is practically
neutralized, when the duties he undertakes are distasteful and badly discharged. A
master who feels his work to be beneath him, and who is always showing that he
thinks so, whose temper is acidulated by a dislike to his profession, and by the
consciousness of failure in it, has parted with all power to ennoble and refine his
pupils.'
With regard therefore to such schools it would be desirable
to alter the scheme, so as not to confine the selection of masters
to clergymen at all. A well-trained able teacher from a
goyemment school would be in every way more suitable. He
118 The Education of Boys.
would give a really sound edacation in Englisli aritlimetic^
writing, and geography, with an elementary knowledge of
mathematics, and Latin if required, — a thing apparently wholly
unattainable in any place at whatever price, except in one or
two well-known schools, or in the upper classes of government
schools. This has been actually done in one or two places,
notably at Drax, and with the very best results. Mr. Bryce
takes a rather opposite view, and alleges that the teaching of
the training college men is apt to be mechanical, and that their
knowledge, though wide, is superficial. We think this
jlidgment is scarcely well founded. Elementary knowledge
may be both sound and accurate, without being either pro*
found or minute, — ^but in such a case it cannot justly be
termed superficial. The conclusions arrived at by the
commissioners as to the value of the education actually
received by those not poor enough to attend the privy council
schools, and too poor to pay for first-class schools, are suffi-
ciently lamentable. Whether at grammar schools or at private
schools, the classical learning professed to be given is pro-
nounced a ' delusive and unfruitful thing.^ Beading aloud is
done in a stumbling, bungling, discordant way. In spelling,
twelve per cent, were good, twenty-five tolerable, thirty-three
poor, thirty bad. In Lancashire the writing is a point on
which parents lay great stress, consequently it is generally
good, often very good. The conclusion is irresistible, that if
they were equally desirous of higher attainments in other
things these would be forthcoming. Arithmetic seems rather to
be regarded as the trick or art of reckoning than as the science
of numbers; and even where the principles are efiectively
taught, it would seem that the head-masters, if university men,
have a certain contempt for it, as if it were an ordinary and
vulgar item of education, while the parents desire it solely
with a view to practical application in business, and not as a
moans of training the intellect in intelligence and method.
Of the total examined, twenty per cent, were good, fifty pass-
able, thirty bad. There was perceptible a good deal of slow-
ness and dawdling, and, what is singular, the new short methods
used in offices do not appear to be taught or explained. In
geography, fifteen per cent, only were good. History is un-
satiwfactorily taught, more, however, from the want of good
elementary and text books, than from the disinclination of the
pupils for timt study. English grammar is better understood
than formerly; but where Eufflish literature is professedly
taught it is little better than the commencement of a system
of cram, both unintelligent and superficial. Mathematics,
except in two or three schools, has little attention paid to it.
The Education of Boys. 119
Latin scholarsliip is very poor. There are no creditable clas-
sical scholars^ except in some of the vexy large grammar schools,
or expensive private seminaries ; and, though it did not come
within the scope of the inquiries of the Commissioners, we can
state as a matter within our own knowledge, that at these
large schools the teaching in school hours is quite inadequate
to eflTect even moderate proficiency unless it is supplemented
by that of a private tutor or coach. We know of one case
where the school fees for a day pupil were about £16, but the
parents were obliged to pay £18 to a tutor to assist him with
some others in preparing and explaining his lessons. In
another instance, a boy preparing for a competitive examina-
tion, and nominally taught by first-class masters, was actually
•coached every evening by a Government schoolmaster.
If the Latin is bad, the study of Greek is reported as
altogether dying out in Lancashire, from an idea of the
parents that it is inconsistent with a commercial education
and practical business. The French teaching lacks strength and
accuracy. On the whole it may be that better penmanship
and arithmetic and more scriptural knowledge were found at
small private schools, but the last was often superficial, .and,
though there was a certain familiarity with doctrinal dogma,
there was little idea of its meaning. The parents prefer
private schools, from an idea that their wishes are more
attended to, and that the master is more assiduous, as having
greater interest in teaching ; and partly, perhaps, because they
find their children learn nothing at an ordinary grammar school,
and that at a higher school the necessary privato tutor is a heavy
expense. It is Kingsley, we think, who speaks of the happy
kingdom where 'the masters say the lessons and the boys
hear them ; ' but here it appears the private tutor masters the
lesson, the boy says it, and the master only listens to it.
Again, the work is not only bad in quality, but deficient in
quantity. There is a growing tendency to increase the number
and lengthen the duration of holidays. In some schools
literally half the year, in others fully one-third, is consumed
in idleness. It is proposed that, in order to insure some work
being done in the holidays, the half-yearly examinations should
be held at the commencement instead of the end of each term,
and this plan is now carried out at Durham. Still, with five
boys out of six, no efiectual work could be got out of them
in the holidays without a tutor or the presence of a father, and
in either case the parents would feel it a hardship if the vaca-
tion were so unreasonably long as to require extra expence or
trouble. Then, again, the complaint of the want of good
nnder-masters is great and general. The salaries they receive
120 The Edueatix>n of Boys.
are small, but perliaps as large as they deserve. SomBtimos
they are clever, but drink, or are otherwise disreputable ; in
other cases they are dull and ignorant ; nevertheless, all the
grounding and elementary teaching is given by them, and
the result is what might be expected. Again, under-masters
complain of the neglected and unprepared state in which their
pupils come to them in the first instance. If schools could be
amalgamated so that really efficient teachers for each branch
of education could be procured, it is certain a great improve-
ment would follow. Under the Scotch system the parent pays
separate fees for each item taught, and it answers well to do so
there, because the Scotch value learning; but it is alleged
that English parents are so apathetic and sordid with regard
to culture, that they would unduly economize if the plan were
worked here. With regard to a better supply of under-
masters, a suggestion of Mr. Bryce deserves notice, namely,
that in cheapening the universities provision should be made
for the establishment of lectures in what the Germans call
Piidagogik, and there should be the mstitution of some body
empowered to grant certificates of fitness for teaching.
Not the least interesting part of the report is that referring
to Manchester and Liverpool. In Manchester there is one
remarkable feature, namely, the very small proportion in its
population of that educated and professional middle class
wluch desires culture for its own sake, and not for what is
gained by it in a business point of view. Three questions
suggest themselves : — ^What kind of an education do the Man-
chester business men want for their sons? where do they
obtain it ? and what is the quality of that actually received ?
Now, the great majority of all in Manchester, not labourers or
artizans, are engaged in commerce, and for commerce the sons
also are destined. The merchant is more acute, but not moro
wise than the farmer. Since he cannot keep his son at school
and college until he is twenty -two, or, as it is called, make a
gentleman of him, he takes him from school and places him in
his counting-house at fourteen or fifteen. All that he requires
in the way of education is that his son should write well, read,
and bo quick at accounts ; also that he should pass muster in
society in history and geography. He is hostile to Latin and
Greek, and to grammar schools in consequence ; he thinks
lightly of mathematics, and not much more of French and
German, which is curious, if true, since there is a great German
trade in Manchester, and many Germans are resident there.
Owens College, which gives a quasi-university course, does
not suit him, nor does the grammar school, therefore he sends
his boy to a private adventure school to receive what is called
TJie Education of Boys. 121
a commercial education, from which the boy is too glad to
escape to the comparative freedom and independence of the
connting-house. Few boys are kept at school for more than
three years, only twelve per cent, stay over fourteen years of
age, and less than two per cent, over sixteen. Having little
edacation, they have no love for knowledge as they grow up.
A proof of this is the poor attendance at Owens College both
of day and evening students. Owens College was established
in 1851, and has eminent men as professors, besides being
a£Sliated to the University of London. One would say that
of the thousands of young men employed in business, many
hnndreds would be glad to study one or two of the
many subjects which are there well and scientifically
taught; — ^but in 1865 there were but 128 day students,
and of evening students 313. From inquiries made among
the clerks, salesmen, and overlookers in one of the largest
warehouses in Manchester, it appears that fifty per cent.
came from private schools in or near Manchester, twenty from
private or endowed schools elsewhere, twenty from Government
schools, and ten from the grammar school. The young men
spend their evenings at concerts or glee clubs, or less innocent
amusements, and prefer pleasing their ears and exercising
their voices to studying under college professors ; but there
is no reason to imagine that even music is learned scientifically
OP seriously. It is a matter, we own, to arouse grave and
somewhat mortifying reflections that there were, in 1861, six
per cent, fewer of children at any school than in 1834. At the
present time about 82,300 children ought to be at school in
Manchester and Salford, but there are only 55,000 on the
books, and the average attendance is 38,000. It, therefore,
is clear that three-fifths of the children are receiving no
education at all, and we call attention to the weight and
significance of the fact which these figures demonstrate.
Liverpool is, in some respects, difierently situated ; the pro-
Sortion of the middle to the working class is larger than in
[anchester. Joined with Birkenhead, Liverpool has a popu-
lation nearly as numerous as that of any town in England,
with the exception of the Metropolis. Besides a good average
of professional men, there are many merchant brokers (the
cotton brokers being usually wealthy), and a floating popula-
tion, half sea-faring and half mercantile. There are also an
immense number of gentlemen in a position of trust receiving
fixed salaries. Therefore, practical mathematical sciences,
snch as astronomy and navigation, are preferred to chemistry
OP mechanics. English composition and some knowledge of
continental languages are also necessary in counting houses ;
122 The Education of Boys.
there is, in consequence, some demand for them in edudation,
but it exists on the same principle that the Leeds people
desire that their sons may be taught chemistry, not that the
boy may discipline his mind by mastering an exact science,
but that he may improve or invent new methods of dyeing
cloth. The average parent in Liverpool is, according to Mr.
Bryce, as little enamoured of culture as the Manchester man.
There is no grammar school, endowed or otherwise, but there
are three large day schools handsomely built and well situated.
The Royal Institution school is the most classical, and has a
high reputation and able masters. The fees are high (about
£26), and there are about a hundred boys, but only two or three
proceed annually to the Universities. The College consists
of three distinct schools, so sharply divided both in school and
play hours that it is apparent social distinctions founded on
wealth are strictly observed. Of the one hundred and eighty
boys in the upper school, four or five only are annually sent
to the universities. The middle school of about 300 is filled
by children of the better class of shopkeepers and clerks.
The fee is £15, and the boys commonly leave at fifteen years
of age. Latin, but not Greek, is taught. There are 370 in
the third school ; the fee is £5. 5s. ; mathematics, French,
and the elements of physics are included in the course. Mtoy
of the boys come from the Privy Council Schools, and leave
at about fourteen years of age. The Institute is divided into
two departments. The studies are much the same as in the
college, but the fees rather lower, and there are about 700
boys. These schools are all reported to be excellent ; never-
theless, many complaints are made as to their educational
results. When boys are taken away at sixteen it is not
wonderful that their attainments are meagre, and their range
of ideas limited. It is for this reason that, though they are
fit to be clerks, they are unfit to be anything more than
clerks, so that, now, prospects of advancement, being rarely
deserved, grow more and more rarely realised, and clerkdom
is becoming a distinct social class whose members are more
marked off from and rise more rarely into the class of mer-
chants. On the other hand, it is stated that youths when
kept at school till eighteen, and still more when they have
been to the universities, take very ill to the dull routine of
business. Moreover, it is the rule in the offices that the last
comer should take the rough work, look up, and post the letters,
so that a graduate of Oxford might find himseH" at the orders
of an apprentice of sixteen. Once over the preliminary drud-
gery, no doubt he would be qualified to rise higher and more
rapidly than the others, but the first process is too unpleasant
The Education of Boys. 123
to be sabmitted to. K the term of apprenticeship were
shortened from five years to three, the boys could then stay
at school until seventeen, a change likely, we should imagine, to
prove beneficial. There is one fact on which the Commis-
sioners report unanimously, that gratuitous instruction for
the children of persons able to pay is hardly ever valued, and
is in proportion sterile and mischievous in its results.
For the evils which we have endeavoured to sum up for our
readers, and which are undoubtedly proved to exist by the
Yoluminous evidence contained in the report, the remedies
suggested are manifold, and some of them extremely well
adapted for the purpose. It seems right that Grovemment
should have a greater latitude with respect to endowed schools,
and a more direct authority over them in order to make them
do their appointed work, than over schools of any other kind.
The nation has a clear right to demand that property left
for the good of the nation should not be administered and
managed to its obvious detriment and injury. The endow-
ments of the smaller schools might well be amalgamated, with
a view to dividing them into three classes, which would be
distributed according to the wants of the district. There
would be primary, secondary, and first class schools; or, again,
there might be central and branch schools, and the boys might
proceed from one to the other, if their abUities and opportuni-
ties permitted. The constitution of the board might be altered,
BO as to secure the presence, first, of men locally interested in
the school, and also of others of liberal education and ideas.
In all cases, except, perhaps, where the original provisions
were pointedly otherwise, the rule by which the selection of
trustees is restricted to members of the Established Church
ought to be abolished. The master ought in no case to have
a fixed salary independent of his own exertions ; he should be
paid by fees, so as to give him a direct interest in the increase
and reputation of the school. Moreover, there ought to be
power for the board to dismiss him when found incompetent
or unsuitable. AU such schools ought to be annually inspected
and reported on by the government inspectors. This, com-
bined with the university local examinations, would go a long
way towards getting a better and more thorough kind of
teaching. We attach even more importance to inspection and
examination of the whole school than to the local, examina-
tions, because the last restricts efibrts to a few clever boys,
but ihe first establishes a certain standard for the great mass
of the scholars. In England it is not yet possible to insist on
compulsory inspection of private schools, but it ought to be
provided for such masters as desire it ; and a public report
124 The Education of Boys.
of efficiency, or of the reverse, would go far to discourage bad
private adventure schools, and would immensely stimulate the
exertions of the masters. The class of persons for whose
children secondary schools are required, are not those for
whom compulsory educational powers are needed. They all
send their children to some kind of school — ^the complaint is
that they get bad and inadequate results. That the right to
free education for middle class children will be in any future
scheme abolished is most probable and certainly desirable.
Free education, as given to the successful pupils in a com-
petitive examination, is in these days a premium on riches, for
the parents who can aflford to engage the best private tutor for
their sons, are pretty certain that their children will carry
away the prize. But there are cases in which to abolish
altogether free education would work hardly. A widow, or a
disabled and broken down professional man, say, has a well-
conducted, industrious son — whether very clever, or only
moderately so, does not affect the question. It would be
satisfactory that the trustees, after examining the whole
circumstances of the case, and considering the poverty or
misfortunes of the parents, should be allowed to place annually
on the list of those who are to be excused from paying the
usual fees one or two such scholars. It would also be right
that the board should do this privately, in order that there
might be no invidious social distinction between these and the
other pupils. To our own knowledge several very learned
and eminent men have thus risen from the ranks. Two
especially were the sons of widows in such impoverished cir-
cumstances that the free grammar school was all they could
look to; and in these cases the education was thankfully
received and made the most of in the best sense of the word.
We have already alluded to the suggestions for the better
supply of under-masters ; — and by amalgamating the small
useless endowed schools, the trustees will be enabled to offer
better salaries and prospects to these gentlemen, which, after
all, is the secret of obtaining able and efficient service. That
proper organization succeeds, if tried, is apparent, since the
Moravians, the Society of Friends, some of the Methodists,
and the Roman Catholics, have established private denomi-
national schools, where the education given receives unreserved
commendation as being thorough, liberal, excellent in quality
and quantity, and moderate in cost. The pupils are also stated
to be in a state of admirable moral discipline. Meanwhile, to
use the words of one commissioner in reference to other
schools : — ' Our English education is not a system — it is a
chaos. * * * The inquiry has been not a little difficult.
Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Reform, 125
and unspeakably disheartening/ Another, referring to Lan-
cashire, says : — ^ If the teaching received by the upper section
of what is called the middle class is neither searching nor
stimulating, and not such as produces any permanent effect
on the mind and character ; if that of the lower section of the
same class is, as it unquestionably is, narrow in range and
poor in quality, scarcely fitting boys even for the sale-room or
cjounting-house, this is not so much the fault of the school-
masters as of the public. Those very faults of the commercial
class which are charged on the badness of its schools — its
want of intellectual interests, its worship of wealth, and show
its indifference to every thing which has not a direct money
value, are themselves the causes which keep the schools down
to their present level/
UNPAID MAGISTRACY AND PRISON REFORM.
THE amount of irresponsible power which is wielded by
those who are named generally the unpaid magistracy, in
other words, the County Justices of England, is almost without
parallel in the civilized world. In countries avowedly and
openly despotic, apprehension of interference by the supreme
authority places no small check upon irregularities and
abuses ; and when that supreme authority is made accessible,
the removal of grievances is sometimes prompt, peremptory,
and alarming to those who, without the intervention of public
opinion or the co-operation of the public press, are called
to account. In most of the departments of Government
the representative system is a safeguard against official
irregularities, and to a certain extent a guardian of the public
purse. Members of Parliament have to give an account to
their constituencies, and their short-comings or misdoings
will be brought before that censorious, and sometimes severe
tribunal — ^the electoral body — which invested them with
legislative power. So in municipal matters, members of the
Common Council only occupy their places temporarily, and
are, from time to time, returned to the burghers, to whom
they must answer for the exercise of their stewardship, to be
re-elected or rejected according to the estimate fonned of their
deservings. But the unpaid magistracy are appointed for Hfe ;
they represent nobody but the Lord Lieutenant, the Lord
Chancellor, or whoever the functionary may be to whom they
owe their nomination. Once invested with authority, they
decide on the amoimt of local taxation to be levied on the
126 Unpaid Magistracy and Prison 'Reform.
community, without any, tlie jsliglitest control upon their
legislation. In very many counties the accounts are kept in the
rudest and most unsatisfactory manner; the audit is frequently
left wholly to the members of their own body, and there is no
unity or uniformity of system in different districts. Budgets
presenting estimates of income and expenditure, such as are
always previously prepared and circulated when Parliament is
to vote monies for the public service, are little known to the
petty parliaments who fix the local ways and means, while
Toutinej that very easily satisfied monarch, becomes the ruler,
the unmolested, unimpeached ruler over the county exchequer.
His statistics are generally as imperfect as his accountancy is
bad.
We have, or are supposed to have, our code of criminal
law, to which the administration of justice is made subservient.
We have, or are supposed to have, the Prison Discipline Act,
over whose application one set of prison inspectors are
appointed to watch. And we have our bench of ambulatory
judges, who (with undoubted aptitude, and unquestioned
purity) give effect to the requirements of the Legislature, and
yet there are perhaps no two gaols in England in which it can
be said that they present the same evidences of the application
of a national law, or the same results &om that application.
In truth, the administration of the same code in different
provinces of Great Britain, and the facts which represent such
administration, are nearly as varied and as irreconcilable as
those of separate codes in different kingdoms of Europe.
The want of unity of action, of any general and accordant
system of administration, is visible not only in the various
cost of prisons and prisoners, under the various schemes of
prison management, but in the extraordinary discrepancies
and contradictions presented by the different returns, whose
statistics are supposed to show the influence of that manage-
ment upon the reformation of criminals, and the diminution of
crime. As every coimty gaol has its own plan of bookkeeping
(county Justices are for the most part, be it allowed, not very
much advanced in the science of accountancy), it is very
difficult to draw correct comparisons even in matters of
pounds, shillings, and pence.
Prison discipline, like every other department of county
legislation, and perhaps more than any, suffers from the con-
stitution and habits of the magisterial body. Independence of
action, jealousy of control, inveterate usages, and the many
susceptibilities and sources of self-love and superiority which
attach to social position, are all unfriendly to the best adminis-
tration of justice, and exercise a baneful influence upon men
Unpaid Magistracy and Pruson Reform. 127
who are constantly looked to as the keepers of the Queen^s
peace^ and the ever-present dispensers of the law.
Taken as a body^ of whom do the county ma^stracy
consist ? Of all the hereditary nobility, of all titled people
as a matter of coarse ; of all the representatives of ancient
ooonty families ; of most of the nouveaux riches who may
obtain the favourable opinion of the Lord Lieutenant ; a large
sprinkling of Anglican Church functionaries ; and the leading
land owners and county squires, who like to put in an
i^ppearance at Quarter Sessions, and to exercise the authority
of a Justice of the Peace in their little spheres of local
influence. In all this machinery is there a single popular
element ? Has public opinion a word to say — a single word
of power — ^in this wide sphere of administration ? The Lord
Lieutenant is the selection of the minister for the time being,
nominated practically for life, and almost invariably represent-
ing the opinions of the Grovemment that appoints him.
Popular or unpopular, stupid or intelligent, he holds his high
office for life, and discharges his duties without any real
responsibility, and those whom he appoints to exercise magis-
terial functions are as immoveable and irresponsible as him-
self. Inattention to duty, absence from the bench, in-
aptitude for business, or other short-comings, scarcely ever
lead to dismissal, animadversion, or oven observation.
And if now and then a word of reproach is directed
against them, there is the ready answer, are they not unpaid ?
Do they not give their gratuitous services to the country ?
And who has ever ventured to call them corrupt ? But
men invested with power may be very mischievous without
being corrupt — and there are many ways in which mischief
may be done — not only by tho absolute neglect of active duty,
but by an inadequate or injurious estimate of the claims of
duty. Absence from the field of usefulness may be less
injurious to the social interests than pernicious interference*
A busy, bustling magistrate, fond of tho exercise of authority,
inaccessible to the influence of public opinion, and with too
little energy, or too little sagacity to escape from the trammels
of routine, is often a plastic instrument in the hands of others.
Who that has watched the proceedings of a bench of magis-
trates at Petty Sessions can have failed to observe the
controlling power which directs the whole machinery? In
many instances the Clerk to the Justices is the real expounder
and administrator of the law, and perhaps a safer guide, on the
whole, than their 'Worships,' who are supposed to bo the
supreme arbiters. Sometimes, when the prominent actor
enunciates a strong opinion — however erroneous — there is too
128 Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Beform,
much timidity to give oxprossion to a doubt or a difference. If
the paramount lord or the patronising squire pronounce a dictum
it is seldom that the parson justice ventures upon a contradic-
tion to his suzerain. And it may well be doubted whether
the clerical body ought to be on the bench at all. They have
other duties, other claims upon their time and attention, and
if it has boon deemed fit to deny them the privileges of making
the laws, there are still more emphatic reasons for not allowing
them to be the judges and administrators of the laws. Another
objection to clerical justices is that the selection is offensively
partial, being almost wholly, if not altogether, confined to the
Anglican ecclesiastics. There is scarcely an example either of
a Roman Catholic Priest, or a Dissenting Minister being called
to the bench. This is one of the inequalities which pervade our
whole social system, and would seem to imply that to no clergy
but those of the Established Church can the administration of
justice be safely or properly confided. There may be reasons
for requiring that churchwardens and other functionaries
discharging ecclesiastical duties should belong to the so-called
religion of the state ; but the duties of a magistrate are not
ecclesiastical, and the choice of justices from the Anglican
clergy alone is a reproach and a degradation stamped upon the
class who are not admitted, and affords another evidence that
the principle of equality is invaded and ignored even in the
constitution of the ordinary tribunals, by giving preference to
the religious teachers of one sect, to the prejudice and exclu-
sion of the religious teachers of the other sects. As regards
the dissenting ministry the exclusion is absolute, and the
dissenting bodies in general are not fairly dealt with. In
Devonshire, at least, about one-third of the population,
amounting to about 600,000, are non-conformists ; yet, among
322 county magistrates there are certainly not ten dissenters,
probably only four or five ; but there are no less than thirty-
three clergymen of the establishment, and in one district
(Southmolton) out of sixteen justices, eight are Church of
England reverend divines. Wliatever Church of Englandism
may be, its tone and temper must predominate in the manage-
ment of our prisons. Among the Visiting Justices of Devon
not a single dissenter is to be found.
The interests of indolence, as Bentham calls them, have
much to do with the mal-administration of prisons. To
subject all convicts to the same undisceming and indiscrimi-
nate discipline, to avoid any classification of criminals, to
apply to the young and the old, the weak and the strong, to the
susceptible and the hardened, to the manageable and the
rebellious^ to the trembling offender and the practised and
Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Reform,, 129
professional thief^ an unvarying scale of conviction and
punishment is, no doubt, a very easy task, a very simple sort
of despotism to be exercised by visiting magistrates and
prison officials. Can it be expected that they should occupy
themselves with unravelling all the varieties of human
character, with studying all the facts of the past, tracing the
influences on the present, and anticipating the results in the
future, in applying their system of prison discipline to every
individual man ? Theirs is a less complicated duty : it is theirs
to prescribe the same universal medicine for all the moral and
social ailments committed to their custody — ^bare planks, profit-
less labour, isolation, treadmills, cranks, solitary stone
breaking, or oakum picking. Why should they be troubled
with the wide distinctions which exist between one criminal
and another ? Do not they see sin and cannot they adjudicate
suffering, and can anything be more simple, more proper, more
reasonable, and more magisterial ? Their punitory code,
applied to crime, is exactly what the ^ Heal-all ' quack medicine
is when applied to disease. Between the committers of the
same offence the law makes no distinction, and why should
they in their treatment of all offences, when the offender is
delivered over to the gaoler^s keeping ? He is not sent to
prison to be instructed; instruction is only fitted for those
who have committed no crime ; he is not there to be taught a
trade. 0 no ! he would then compete with the honest
labourer. He is not there to have any improvable elements
in him turned to account, whether by the work of his hand or
the education of his intellect. He has offended against the
laws, and in his person the law must be vindicated, and society
have its revenge; for, after all, revenge is the purpose to
which effect is to be given. Society has been wronged. What
better can society do than to wreak its vengeance upon the
wrong doer ? All this is a very easy task. A Uttle resolute
obstinacy, a persistent closing of the eyes, and stopping the
ears against the claims of humanity, against the evidences of
experience, against the comparison of results between one and
another system of prison management ; in a word, the deter-
mination to do what has been done, and to resist all suggestions
of change, as not only critical but condemnatory, — ^which to
say the truth they are, — is a very satisfactory way of continuing
and strengthening an abuse.
More than in any other part of the field of local authority,
our prisons exhibit the deficiencies and defects of magisterial
action. Within the prison walls, subject to conditions so
elastic as to lend themselves to the varieties of opinion which
find expression in the various boards of visiting justices^ there
Vol. 11.-2^0. 42. I
130 Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Eefcrm.
exists a liidden^ irresponsible power, which, in its diflFerent
modes of administration, produces results tlie most incon-
gruous and the most contradictory, whether with reference to
the physical condition, the pecuniary cost, the moralizing or
demoralizing influences, of the multifarious plans adopted, as
regards the prisoners themselves, and the eflfect of prison
punishment on criminals without the prison. No one could
bo prepared for contrasts so striking. Yet it is believed — a
most erroneous belief — ^that all Englishmen are subject to the
same laws, that the honest should be entitled to the same
protection, the dishonest exposed to the same penalties, through
the length and breadth of the land. Nothing can be farther
from the reaUty. A felony committed in Devonshire will be
very difiTerently treated from a felony of which Bedfordshire is
the scone. Tno visiting magistrates of Somerset will have
notions of right and duty altogether opposed to those of Lan-
cashire. In the sixty prisons of Scotland there is a uniform
BY stem of administration and accountancy. In no two in
Kngland is there accordance.
Acts of Parliament in theory are supposed to recognise no dis-
tiuotioiis in the administration of the law. Acts of Parliament
in practice are partial. To some extent leniency or severity of
puiuHlunont, the maximizing or minimizing legal penalties im-
poHod by Acts of Parliament, will depend upon the personal
i^haructor and particular views of the committing magistrate.
It has boon observed that poachers are generally treated with
fiVxHxi bit tornoss by the proprietors and preservers of game ; nor
oau it bo otherwise while human beings are nearer and dearer to
thomsolvos than thoy can be to other people. A justice on the
bourh raunot doff his own special character. The family
tyrant will mwor bo the humane distributor of justice. The
iin|u^tiumH friond or father in his domestic relations will not be
ohnnKtul into a roflocting judge when he is seated on the
btMuTi ; nor will a man of feeble and plastic nature become
Ytm^ and strong because a Lord Lieutenant has added J.P. to
bin iuinu\ In the discipline of prisons, into which it may be sup-
jumtul tho U^mslnturo ought to give effect to a common purpose,
thort* provuirinnumorablo varieties of influence and action. In
nonu* tlu* lubimr of prisoners is wholly wasted ; or, even worse,
tho liibour is costly instead of being productive. Absolute
idlonoMM wonld bo loss oxponsive than stone-breaking, cranks,
and trt^aihnills nro often found to be. In other prisons labour
brin((M largt^ rovonuo to the public account. The regulations
an io tUotary and dress, as to gaolers and wardens, the
Ukit^rior ivrrangoments as to rewards and punishments, show
^OW UiiTorDUtly tho duties of the visiting justices are inter-
Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Reform. 131
preted in the several counties of England. The prisons of
Scotland, under the government of a single board of control,
present no such extraordinary anomalies.
The late Prisons' Act has undoubtedly greatly augmented
the amount of suffering inflicted on criminals within the
walls of our gaols ; but has it diminished the amount of crime
without those walls ? If not, there has been a gratuitous
aggravation of human misery, without a corresponding
decrease of human misdoings. The operation of penal
legislation is not to be studied merely in its history of convicts
who fall into the hands of justice, but also in that of the un-
convicted who escape from the control of the magistrate.
Whatever be the causes, and as far as possible such causes
should be removed, the number of offenders who are at large
and who prey upon the public, is much greater than of those
who are under confinement. To some extent the law wants
the co-operation of public sympathy and public opinion. Very
many misdemeanants escape because those whom they have
wronged deem the awards of the lawgiver arbitrary and
unjust, and they refuse to be instruments for the infliction of
unreasonable and unjustifiable penalties. On account of the un-
disceming and indiscriminating discipline of many of our gaols,
humane magistrates frequently refuse to commit offenders.
In truth, there exists in this country a secret, widely extended
and very potent rebellion against a legislation which has not
the approval of those sentiments of justice and humanity that
happUy pervade a civilized land.
Between the schemes which provide for the absolute isolation
and non-recognition of the convict, and those where no
separation is enforced, and where association is not only not
interdicted but encouraged, there is a very wide field in which
both separation and association may be each employed, each
applied to special cases, with benefit to the criminal and to
the community. If pecuniary profits were the sole or even the
preponderating consideration, as they are in some prisons of
the United States, the labour of the prisoners might be made
available not only for their support, but so as to leave a very
large surplus to the public purse. Prison discipline would
allow a maximum of work to be obtained at a minimum cost.
A greater number of hours might be devoted to labour within
a prison, a greater amount of task- work exacted, than would be
obtainable, or even be tolerated, in the wide era of competition,
where the labourer is master of his own time, and is a volun-
tary party to the conditions on which his labour is sold to his
employers. As a matter of course the free workman will dress
better and feed better than the convict will be allowed to do.
132 Unpcdd Magistracy and Prison Reform,
From mucli of the expenditure of social existence, even among
the humblest classes, the confined criminal is wholly excluded.
He has none even of the meanest luxuries, stiU less of the
superfluities which almost without exception are the lot of the
poorest labouring man. To him a pot of beer, a cup of coffee
or tea, a pipe of tobacco, a penny newspaper, are forbidden
enjoyments. The very garments he wears are coarse and
strong, less liable to wear and tear, and purchased at the
lowest price. No neighbour can be invited to sit at his table,
no relation to partake of his scanty meal ; he has no time to
lose in playing with children or grandchildren, no occasional
holiday to reward him for his past toils, or to give him impulse
and encouragement for the future. All his powers are at the
mercy of his keeper to be taxed to their fidlest extent. In
America, where the labour of prisoners is sometimes sold to
contractors, gross abuses are the result, and the disciphne of
prisons is found inefficient to control those abuses. The
interest of the purchasers of prison labour is, of course, to
obtain the greatest amount of pecuniary benefit, regardless of
any consideration of individual reformation, as far as the
prisoner is concerned, or of the public weal, which it is the
object of prison discipline to provide for. It is found that the
interest of the contractor may be more promoted by the
deterioration than by the reformation of the prisoner, and in
such cases it is clear that if pecuniary profit to the state be
made the sole or preponderating consideration, the higher
social interests, those connected with public morals and the
repression of crime, will seriously suffer.
It is obvious that if associated labour be most productive in
a pecuniary sense, if the gregarious element in human beings
is that to which we must look for the largest amount of profit,
80, on the other hand, it is equally certain that the isolation of
man reduces his productive power to the lowest possible
grade. Were there nothing to be weighed in the scale but
the money profits of labour, and the criminal to be con-
sidered merely as a slave or an outlaw — a property of which
the State had the usufipuct for the purpose of paying, first,
the cost of his keeping, and secondly the profits from his
work, by way of recouping society for any or all the pecuniary
mischief caused by the wrong-doer, such a one-sided purpose
would be justifiable did not the wrong-doer belong to society
itself, and were not the philanthropist bound to look beyond
the prison walls, and to consider prison discipline only as an
instrument for the abatement of social evil, and for the pro-
duction of social good. Yet there are, indeed, some criminals
hopelessly, irreclaimably bad, who are neither to be reformed
Unpaid Magistracy and Prison Reform. 133
by the encouragement of rewards, nor by the dread of punish-
ments. They occupy a category of their own, and may be
dealt with accordingly. But in the vast majority of cases
there is some element not altogether unteachable or unim-
provable, and it is this element especially with which prison
reformation has to do, and which is a property committed to*
the care of the magistracy for the common benefit. It is here
,that discipline must be made not punitory alone, but reforma-
tory; and in so far as the reformation of the offender can be
made co-operative with the pecuniary relief of society, the
two objects ought constantly to be kept in view.
In truth, the undiscerning, imdiscriminating disposal of
offenders lies at the very root of prison mismanagement-
Two words i-epresent the whole vocabulary of the ordinary
gaol administration — 'Prison,' 'Punishment.' You have
possession of the sinner, inflict the suffering. Now, no one
would contend that the violator of the law should not pay the
penalty of such violation ; but has justice nothing else to do ?
Has the magistrate discharged his obligation to society when
he has merely inflicted the stripes and nothing more, — till,
the term of his sentence being run out, the convict is flung
back, unchanged, nay, perhaps deteriorated and hardened,
into the very field of his former delinquencies ? Would it
not be better and wiser to inquire whether there are not
means by which the former violator of the law may be
made the future observer of the law? Is everything evil
in every man who has conmiitted an act of violence or dis-
honesty? Have justices nothing better to do than to pelt
sinners with penal stones, and tell them to go and sin no more?
Have they never read of one who, when the fallen woman was
brought to him, taken in the very act, taught his followers —
what ? that the harsh, inexorable law of Moses, the punish-
ment of death, should be carried out ? Nothing of the sort.
* Pity, tenderness, mingled in the spirit of the Divine One
when guilt was brought into His presence. Would that some
portion of that spirit could be infused into the minds of those
who dispense penalties, but are deaf to every claim of that
better element, the teachable, the improvable part of man's
very nature, which in an immense multitude of cases will be
discovered^ if diligently sought !
The real urgency of this and many similar questions is^
that they should be raised into higher regions of thought and
feeling than those to which the discussion is commonly con-
fined. It is rarely that the moral and reli^ous bearings of
penal legislation, the associated duties of the legislator and
the magistrate^ obtain becoming attention ; and within prison
134 'Nothing to Do/
walls especially the instruction conveyed is often of a very
inefficient character. It is not alone by the introduction of
religious tracts, by the conversation and preaching of chap-
lains, or by the enforced attendance on the churdb services,
^valuable as these may be as auxiliaries ; it is by the study
t)f individual character, by a thorough examination into the
•antecedents of every man and woman convict, by an inquiry
into what is strong and what is weak in their several natures
^and dispositions, by efforts devoted to the eradication of what
is evil and the encouragement of what is good in every special
case that reformation may be hoped for. The moral diseases
are as various as their symptoms, and require for their treat-
ment medicines as different as do the diseases of the physical
frame. The tendency to deeds of violence, in the wide area
of their action, is quit^ a distinct idiosyncracy from the dis-
position to defraud. One man would shrink with horror from
any action to be deemed dishonest, whose impetuosity of
temper might betray him into the most outrageous misdeeds ;
while another, while glorying in the success of some fraudful
scheme, would abhor the thought of injuring the person of a
victim. In the reports firom the best-conducts prisons from
the United States there is touching evidence of the success of
attention to individual cases, and of the great and favourable
results of such attention upon the genend statistics of crime.
Tho dovolopmont of a topic having so many ramifications
wvniUl Im> worthy the devoted attention of the philosopher and
the Christ iau.
* NOTHING TO DO.'
* WoU, roallv, these December days seem as long as mid-
9umiuor owes* i doolare I How on earth you manage to exist
horx^ tho jjnxitor j^art of every year I cannot imagine, Maudie.
'NVhutovor do vou do with yourself?'
* I 8o«nvIy know. The time is tedious enough I assure you.
I j^^K *^lon^ with mv lessons, and riding, driving, visiting, Ac,
and 81^ jyi>t thrvnigli the months somehow. It will be better
tinxt wii\tor, I hojH^ : you know I am to come out then; and
it will W Wttor still when I am married.'
* And pray what knight is suing for my fair sister's hand?'
* N\> one yot, vou stupid fellow ! but of course he will appear
in duo time. C^omo, walk quicker, Fred ; my poor feet are
rwdv to drop otV with cold !'
Tho two speakers were brother and sister, the only children
'Nothing to Do.' 135
<rf a widow. They were walking in the grounds of their country
home, which was situated in the outskirts of a town in Berk-
shire. The elder of the two, Fred, was a youth of nineteen,
an Etonian, just home for the holidays ; the younger, Maud,
was a dark-eyed, brilliant, impulsive little damsel of seventeen.
They quickened their steps along the frozen pathways. In
a few moments Maud added, ^ Of course you feel it particularly
dull after the excitements of school-life, Fred ; but it will be
better next week, when Grace Beattie and Cousin Gus arrive.
We can have lots of fun and going about then. Now there is
literally nothing to do, so we must just be quiet and patient
till relief comes.'
' Isn't Gus awfully slow? I have a dim idea that he is a man
of strict, staid notions ; if so, there won't be much reUef got
out of him. Perhaps he may minister to our amusement by
getting up an engagement with Grace Beattie !'
' Likely !' laughed Maud Cowley. ^ She's engaged already ;
and if she were not, it is just outside the range of possibility
that she would ever fall in love with Gus, for he is all you say,
and a great deal more : he is staid, strict, dignified, puritanic,
in short, altogether awful. Yet I mean to have some fun out
of him. I'm going to have splendid scenes ! I'm going to
ruffle his dignity, shock his prejudices, upset all his notions of
decorum, and give him something livelier to engage his atten-
tion than those law treatises in which he is at present immersed.
Won't he make a splendid Lord- Chancellor, though, with his
great head and serious face ! May I live to see him in a big
wig and flowing robes !'
' You have ambitious wishes for sedate old Gus,' said Fred.
' Yet why should I ?' Maud immediately responded ; ' I don't
care a snap for him. We are divided by oceans of differences.
Nevertheless we'll make him contribute to our Christmas
merriment somehow.' They were now entering the house.
' Well, well !' exclaipoied Maud, glancing up at the hall clock,
' we have been walking ourselves almost to exhaustion about
these horrid grounds, and yet have been out only half-an-hour!
Whatever shall we do with ourselves the rest of the day ?
Heigho ! how the time drags !' and with a very unlady-liko
yawn Miss Maud slowly went upstairs.
She made the next few days bearable by anticipating the
arrival of Christmas visitors, — some of her mamma's particular
friends, besides Miss Beattie and cousin Gus. In due time
they came, and Maud was in a flutter of gratification and
excitement that made the days seem short enough during the
week of their arrival. Soon, however, she had run through
the programme which she had drawn up to serve them with
136 'Nothing to Do.'
amusement for at least a month ; and then the old plaint was
uttered of ' Nothing to do/
We must make some excuse for poor little Maud. A very-
empty, vapid, unworthy sort of life she lived ; but it was in
great part the fault of her training. Her father, whose vivacity
and energy of character she inherited, died when she was a
mere child ; and all through her girlhood she had been sub-
jected to no permanent influences beyond those of her petulant
invalid mother, and her young governess, who was not one
capable of exerting a high moral influence over her charge.
So Maudes character was like a garden left to itself, over-run
with pretty, useless weeds ; there were some lovely flowers in
it, too, but they required cultivating ; at present they were
almost entirely smothered with weeds.
Her brother^s powers were better directed, and kept in
constant exercise by a kind of ambition provoked by competi-
tion at school. This is a low kind of ambition, unless it be
subservient to some higher end ; still it is better for a youth
to have that, than be without any at all ; to be roused to earnest
action by emulation alone, than to be driven to go through a
routine of duties like a dull and goaded mule.
Fred Cowley determined to go through his College course
with honour, and come off* with flying colours in the end.
Had you asked him, 'What then V his reply would have been,
' Then for a life of ease and enjoyment, travel, and elegant
indolence ; in short, the life of a private gentleman.'
He was not blind to the fact that his sister was a useless,
silly little piece of humanity. He would sometimes pay her
the doubtful compliment of saying, 'You are a stupid little
butterfly of a girl, Maudie, made to idle away the sunny hours
of your life and be admired for your prettine^s, just like all
girls : confess, now, that you have no other object in life than
to make yourself attractive to get admiration V Of course all
this elicited a sulky pout from Miss Maud, and a protest
against the bare idea of such a thing, though she well knew
that she might truthfully have confessed to it.
Maud did not practice any of her little coquettish arts on
her demure cousin, Augustus Mitchell. ' It isn't worth while
wasting one's sweetness on the desert air,' she said to her
friend, Grace Beattie, ' so Gus must make the best of me as I
am ; I'm not going to do the agreeable to him, it would be
labour in vain, for one gets no response from him, not even
the ghost of a compliment for all one's fascinations.'
Before he had been in the house a week, Maud, having used
up every possible means for killing time, took to snubbing
Mr. Gus, and reproached him for not using his utmost exer-^
'Nothing to Do.' 187
tions to amuse her and her friend. It waa on a snowy
morning when they were all together in the drawing-room,
with nothing to do ; Fred was apparently studying, for the
hundredth time, a book of engravings of Tennyson^s beauties ;
Miss Beattie was half buried in the cushions of a lounge near
the fire, reading a novel ; Gus was at the window, sketching
the picturesque scene without ; Maud was fluttering about the
room, disturbing first one and then another, humming, dancing,
playing snatches on the piano, denouncing the weather, dis-
satisfied with herself and everybody and everything in the
world. ' I wish the horrid snow would keep away, and a real
firost come,' she said, ' there would be skating then, and some
little chance of amusement. Eeally, what a dead-alive set we
are ! Grace, you might leave off reading, and chat a bit, I
should think. And as for you, Fred, and cousin Gus, I think
you ought to be ashamed of yourselves for not trying to amuse
us in some way or other ! Just imagine your sitting occupy-
ing yourselves in such comfortable fashion, and leaving us to
do as we can I Gallant knights you are, by my faith ! as our
great, very great, grandmothers used to say.'
' I beg your pardon, Maud,' said Gus, quietly putting his
sketching materials away, ' I thought you were occupied. I
have been so absorbed in my scene, as to be unconscious of
what was going on around me. Do you wish to go out, my
dear V These words coming in such patriarchal style from
the yoxmg man of twenty-five, affected Maud's risibility. Her
annoyance gave way to laughter, and she exclaimed, 'You
queer old Paterfamilias ! Don't talk to me as if I were a baby
and you a grandfather ! Do I wish to go out, my dear ? No,
I don't wish to go out in snow deep enough to bury one. I
just want you to be sociable, and come and have a game of
billiards, or something. Don't you see I have nothing to do,
and no one to amuse poor me ? It is bad enough to have to
cater for one's amusement all the year round, when nobody's
here ; but it's worse still to be left to one's self in the very
presence of visitors.' Maud concluded with her former tone
of annoyance, and a petulant shrug of the shoulders.
'Ton are forgetting yourself, Maudie, in reproaching our
firiends,' said her brother, looking up from his book.
' Never mind that,' said Gus, apologetically, ' it is half in
fim, I can see. Poor little coz ! So you have a great trouble
all the year round to amuse and interest yourself, and make
your life bearable ? Well, well, dearie, that is just because
you have not 'found your vocation,' as the Germans would say;
you live in a little narrow world of your own, which affords
yon no scope to exercise the high faculties with which God
138. 'Nothing to Vo.'
has endowed you. This is no empty compliment meant to
tickle vour ears, Maud. God has largely endowed you, and it
is a solemn thing to admit ; for your responsibilities are great
just in proportion to your endowments. Have you ever
thought upon those Bible-words : ^^ To whom much is given,
of him shall much be required?'^ '
' Well, really,' interrupted Miss Seattle, raising herself on
her elbow, and turning her handsome face towards the two
speakers, 'You are having quite a lecture, Maudie !'
Maud's face was slightly flushed. ' Never mind her, Gus,'
she said, ' Go on. I hko you to talk to me so. Yet I think
you are mistaken in supposing that I am endowed in any way.
X ou know I am no genius. I could not write a poem or a
novel to save my iSe. Of course, I should be proud and
pleased to have a vocation of some sort — to be a Madame de
Staiil, a Bosa Bonheur, a Miss Herschel, or a distinguished
somebody ; but then it's altogether out of the question. I
have no talent for anything/
' You have a talent which every woman possesses, Maudie,
the talent of blossincr others out of the fulness of a tender and
generous heart. If you would but use it, what a beautiful
influence you might exert, what a useful little woman you
might become ! If you ladies were only in earnest to fulfil
your vocation, you might use even your beauty, your powers
of fascination, to do good.'
' Ihit whatever could I do, Gus ?'
' You know Tennyson's lines, Maudie,' —
* Lad V Clara Vore do Vere,
If time be heayj on your hands,
Are there no beggars at your gate,
Nor any poor about your landi?
Oh I teach tue orphan bo^ to read,
Or teach the orphan girl to sew;
Fray heaven for a human heart,
And let the foolish yeoman go I'
' I suppose,' said Miss Beattie, ' you would have us act the
part of Lady Bountifuls, Mr. Mitchell ?'
Ilo looked d,own gravely upon her, and rephed, ^ I would
liiivo you act the part of true women. Miss Beattie ; and not
nIiuI up your quick sympathies, and pity, and energy, — and
IVitt«»r iiway your lives on dress and fashion, and such trivial
thiiif(K, which are worthy of only a very small part of your
fioiiHidorutiou. Tliink what a power a woman has to do good;
Hhn can rnako her way where a man cannot ; she can speak
toiidnr wohIh, and perform gentle ministrations in a way that
woiihl ho inipoHsiblo in a man. Her heart, if she will but let
il havo itH way, will prompt her to relieve the suffering, cheer
'Nothing to Do/ 139
tlie sad^ clothe tlie naked^ and feed the hnngrj^ in the most
delicate and effectual manner possible. Woman is made to
bless : God has so constituted her that she can work like an
angel. In my opinion there is not a more deplorable sight in
creation than a frivolous^ selfish^ heartless woman of fashion —
a most unwomanly woman/
Maud stood beside him listening with downcast eyes. He
stroked her head gently and added^ ' I don^t wish to see my
dear little cousin such a one. It is painful to me to hear her
talking of killing time^ and amusing herself^ and playing
billiards^ when she might be training herself to become a
noble and self-forgetful lady.^ At this Maud raised her eyes^
all full of tears, to him, and said, ' What you say is very right,
Gus. You know I am that busy sort of body, that must have
something to do, and engage my attention. So for lack of
other things I spend hours and hours in a week doing nothing
but plan this and that about my costumes, and adorn myself
in one way and another. Sometimes I wish I had been bom
poor, BO that I might be obliged to work. My leisure is a
grievance to me ; for I cannot lounge about for hours, and
dream over silly books. I must be up and doing something.'
' How many there are who are so poor, and have to work so
hard, that they have no leisure for anything !' said Gus. ' You
might find out such, and give them a little of your leisure.'
' How could I V asked Maud, wonderingly.
' Shall we make a tour of discovery in the neighbourhood,
and try to find out V said Gus.
' Oh yes, do l^t us,' said Maud, in delight.
' He wants to make a parish visitor of you, Maud, I can
Bee,' exclaimed Miss Beattie. 'You will have to go about
with tracts and soup-tickets, under the surveillance of the
parson.'
Maud's countenance fell. 'Oh, Gus ! I could not do that,
indeed I could not. At least, I might force myself to perform
a certain round of duties in that formal way ; but I could not
do it spontaneously, and with pleasure.'
' I am sure you could not just now, Maudie. You must fol-
low no routine, nor work in any official way ; but just simply
and naturally take up the first case that comes under your
notice, and do what your kind heart prompts you to. Some
day you may come to feel that you would like to co-operate
with others in some good work ; but at present I am sure it is
better for you to find out a path for yourself.'
' You must get a bundle of tracts ready, Maud,' laughed
Miss Beattie ; ' of course that is the first thmg.'
' I have none,' answered Maud.
140 'Nothing to Do.'
' You will not need them, Maudie,' said Mr. Gus ; then turn-
ing to Miss Beattie he said gravely but kindly, ' Don't sneer
at such things. Miss Beattie ; it does not become you/ To
Maud he added, 'You will most likely find that you will meed
your purse rather than tracts, at first ; for the body must be
attended to before the soul. If God had not meant the body
to bo attended to first, would He have put the soul inside, do
you think ? You remember how our Saviour cared for the
bodies of men. When He appeared to His disciples on the
sea shore after His resurrection. His first question was,
'' Children, have ye any meat 1" Then, having provided for
them, and invited them to '^ Gome and dine,'^ He began His
homily to St. Peter, " Lovest thou me J Peed my sheep and
lambs.'' Herein let us follow His example.'
' Can we go out at once f ' said Maud, going to the window.
' The snow-storm is nearly over. A walk through the snow
would not hurt us, surely ?'
' Certainly not ; run and get ready, and wrap up well. Will
you go, too. Miss Beattie, and you Fred ?'
Thoy both agreed. ' Anything for a little diversion,' they
said. The young ladies went away to get ready. ' By the
manner in which you are setting the girls to work, I snould
think you wore used to this sort of thing, Gkis,' said Fred,
rising and dragging himself lazily to the fire.
' It is nothing now to me to meet with cases of distress,
ami to sock them out, too. But generally they are rather
foriHMl upon mo ; for turn which way you will, there is destitu-
ti\»i\ to bo n^Hovod, and there are sorrows to be sympathised
with «nd alloviated, if possible.'
* W'M, now, I novor meet with such cases,' said Fred; 'and
I don*t tako tlio troublo to look for them. I think, you know,
chut wo do our duty in jmnng poor-rates, and subscribing to
alow oharitio8. 1 know mamma subscribes to several; and
I always purso out when there's a collection at church, so I
iloirt ivpix»uoh uiysolf for dereliction of duty. A fellow can't
xlo mon* than ho can.'
* No : but a follow can do a great deal more than give an
ooouNional haU-sovoreign at a collection, Fred. A little human
Hvmpalhy is oft on bettor than ^old to the needy. "Kind
woi'UM a»v wi»rth niuoli and cost little," is an old saying and a
truo cMio, A little more personal intercourse between rich
Hiul poi>r would ilo wonders in removing the pernicious dass-
lU'ojihliooH whioh oxist at present; and that without causing
(lin lonut (loiH)gatiou to the dignity of the higher class. A
IMMH tiM\v t»o rioh aud w oil-educated, refined and of perfect
iMHUhorM I l»\it if ho hiivo not developed that part of his nature
'Nothing to Do.' 141
which grows and strengthons from contact with the poor and
ignorant and sorrowful^ he is but half a man. What an igno-
rant^ half-developed (albeit highly-educated, as the phrase
goes) creature is he who has not studied with warm heart and
earnest mind the various strata of human society, oven to the
lowest, to endeavour to discover Grod^s purposes concerning
them, and to work out those purposes so far as in him lies !
Here is splendid work for philosopher and philanthropist, —
work to call into exercise the highest faculties of our being,
and cause us to grow unto the perfect stature of men, and as
the Bible adds, of men " in Christ Jesus,' who set us the
example of all that is good and strong, dignified and beautiful
in human nature. We who live on the highest strata of
society, and get the rain and sunshine, the flowers and grasses
for our enjoyment, shall we not go down to those on the lower,
and help them to get a glimpse of the world^s brightness and
beauty, and feel a little sunny, invigorating warmth ? We
will try. Here are the young ladies.'
They entered, all animation and smiles. 'I have ten
shillings in my purse ; do you think that will do, Gus ?' asked
Maud.
' O yes,' he answered, smiling.
' Tou must not think too hardly of me,' added Maud, ' for
you know I do give money away to poor people sometimes
whom I meet in my walks.'
' A wrong way to exercise charity,' said Mr. Gus, much to
Maud's astonishment. ' You must never give money except
in particular cases, where you And that nothing else will relieve
Give monei/s worth with your own kind hands and words.
Indiscriminate giving of money does more harm than good,
and fosters a pauper-spirit, which you must always try to
avoid doing. Now for a start.'
They set oflF bravely out into the snow. It had ceased
falling, but it lay thick on the ground, and the scene all around
was mntastic and fairy-like. Having left the grounds and
come out into the public road, they set off towards the town,
but on the way turned aside to speak to two children who
were going up a lane leading to a few poor-looking country
cottages. They were both girls, and the elder was crying
dolefully. Our party soon reached them ; for the poor children
were walking Imgeringly through the snow, as if loth to go
home. ' What's the matter ?' asked Maud, approaching them ;
and her silvery voice fell like music on their ears.
They came to a standstill and looked up at her, but did not
speak. The elder drew her old hat over her dirty, tear-
stained face; and the younger huddled shyly against her
142 , 'Nothing to Do/
sister. ' Tell me what^s the matter/ persisted Maud. ' Why
are you crying ? Tell me, and if you are fei Trouble, perhaps
I can help you/
The elder girl uttered nothing but a sob ; the little one,
taking courage from the lady's kind^ words, said bravely,
' Please 'm, we has lost sixpence in the snow, as mother sent
us to buy a loaf with/
'Where do you live V asked'^Maud.
' At the first o' them houses 'm, said the child.
' Very well ; then PIl give you another sixpence, and you
run quickly and get a loaf, and we will call and see your
mother.'
Maud gave the money, and the children ran off, relieved
and happy. Then Maud looked with earnest inquiry up at
her cousin, and said, ' Have I done right, Gus V
' You have done admirably, Maud,' he replied. ' I can see
your heart will guide you far better than the most elaborate
instructions from even a highly-experienced worker.'
' Oh, Gus !' exclaimed Maud, as if to disclaim all praise.
' Now, you must speak and act at the cottage,' she added.
^ No, indeed ! You must do the work, to-day.'
' Will you Grace ? or you, Fred ?' asked Maud entreatingly.
' I shouldn't know what to say,' replied Miss Beattie. ' Nor
I,' asserted Fred.
' Just wait and see what there is to say, and you will find
words, Maud,' said Mr. Gus, encouragingly. As they neared
the cottage he added, ' I hope you are prepared to see a little
dirt and squalor. You must not allo^w a trifle to terrify you
from a good purpose.'
' 0 no,' laughed Maud,' ' I will be very brave.'
They entered a small garden, and heard a baby crying, and
a woman singing in a low, soothing fashion.
Maud knocked at the door, and the singing was changed to
an unceremonious ^ come in !' Maud hesitated, but at a sign
from Gus she lifted the latch and entered. The scene which
proacmtod itself startled Maud almost out of her self-possession,
HO that she was fain to draw back ; but it was nothing new to
Gus : ho was accustomed to go into houses which far surpassed
ihiH one in dirt and wretchedness. Over a dull-burning fire of
rjj rulers cowered a good-looking woman, still young in years,
but old in sorrow. She had a dirty old shawl drawn closely
around hor, under which she was muffling up an almost naked
baby, trying to got it to sleep. The brick floor was bare of
(tarpot or mat of any kind, and very dirty ; the whitewashed
Yfiim wore bare and smoke-blackened ; a few articles of broken
funiituro wore about the room^ and all in a state of extreme
/
' Nothing to Do.' 143
disorder. In one comer lay a little boy, on an apology for a
bed; his face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily. Add
to this that the atmosphere of the place was foul and stifling,
and some excuse may be made for Maudes shrinking in the
doorway.
As soon as the woman saw who her visitors were, she arose
in trepidation, and seemed at a loss for words. ^ Dear me !*
she said at length, ^ I thought it was one of my neighbours.
And bless me ! if it aint the young lady as goes by on horse-
back so often ! And my place ain't fit for you to come into.
Miss, and ne^er a whole chair have I got to ask you to sit
down upon. You see. Miss, I can^t do nothing with the baby
always in my arms, and the child ill there. I^m tied hand
and foot, as you may say.'
' Does the doctor come to see your sick child V asked Maud,
kindly.
* No, Miss ; no one haven't been yet, and I can't get out.
My husband said as he'd see what could be done for the poor
thing ; but he'll be sure not to : when once he gets out every-
body at home's forgotten.'
She spoke in a hopeless, careless way.
' You seem to be in great trouble ?' said Maud.
' Trouble, Miss ? there's no end to it. You seem a kind
feeling lady, though I've always thought you so high and
mighty as you passed by ; and I think I may speak out to
you, though I can't abear to see you standing, and the other
young lady too, and the gentlemen.'
' Never mind that,' said Maud; 'but I fear we ought not to
keep this door open, the sick child will feel it : do come quite
inside, Grace.' And as Miss Beattie made a gesture of repug-
nance, Maud added, ' Yes, do come in, and you, Fred ; we
shall stay but a minute or two.'
They came in, and Maud drew from the poor woman her
painful, but alas ! too common story. Her troubles were a
drunken husband, and consequent brutal usage, neglect,
poverty, and hopelessness. Her children and herself were
bare of clothes, she was in feeble health, and in such a state
of despondency through want and sorrow, that she let every-
thing go as it liked, and had given over caring whether
they lived or died ; for of what value was her wretched life ?
Not one of our party listened to her sad story unmoved*
Fred whispered that they should there and then make a col-
lection, and ' purse out ' to the best of their ability, but Gus
hurriedly objected ; so, knowing that he had had most expe-
rience in such matters, they left him to plan a means of relief
for the poor body.
144 • Nothing to Do.'
Just then the two little girls entered with their small loaf,
and a ^ pen'orth o' tea, and a pen^orth o' sugar/ as the mother
said, adding, ^ 1 sent out my last sixpence, for the poor children
must have something to eat to-day, if they've got to go with-
out to-morrow/
' They shall not go without,' said Maud ; ^ we will send you
somethmg by-and-by/
' God bless you for your kindness. Miss,' said the woman,
gratefully.
' You have but a poor fire for such wintry weather,' said
Grus. ' Are you short of coal ?'
' That bit in the basket is all I have got, sir; and I've been
burning the cinders to make it last out,' said the woman.
He inquired where she bought her coal, and then promised
to send her some in. After giving her some advice and
instructions about ventilating her house^ they took their leave.
^ Now for your purse, Maud,' said Gus, when they got out-
side. ' I propose that you go direct to the haberdasher's shop,
which I saw near the village school one day, get some flannel
and other materials for warm clothing, have them sent to the
schoolmistress, and ask her to cut them out for you ,- then
have a sewing party at home for the next few evenings, and so
be like the good woman of old, who ^^ made garments for the
poor." '
' Thanks for your advice, Gus, I think we cannot do better
than follow it. What say you, Grace ?'
^I am quite willing to turn seamstress,' answered Miss
Beattie. ^ It would be rather pleasant than otherwise to find
one's self reaUy busy.'
^ Well, then, we will go direct to Morton, the haberdasher,'
said Maud, with happy animation.
In the course of an hour they had arranged everything most
satisfactorily. Their purchases were in the hands of the
schoolmistress, who promised to cut out the required gar-
ments, and send them to Maud's home some time during the
day.
Our party then went direct home, and Maud told her
mother the story of their morning's errands. Mrs. Cowley
expressed much astonishment, and enquired how it could
possibly have entered Maud's head to engage in anything so
novel, and so foreign to her general tastes. Maud explained,
with many expressions of commendation, that it was ^ good
cousin Gus ' who originated this new project of being useful.
^ I don't know what to say about it,' responded Mrs. Cowley,
' you are exposing yourself to many dangers, child ; still, it is
well for young people to try to make themselves of use to
'NoiUiig to Do/ 145
others, so I shall say nothing against your schemes at present ;
we will wait and see what comes of them/
' The first thing I want yon to do, please mamma, is to send
some substantial relief to the hungry family, and something for
the sick child ; the next thing is to co-operate with Grace and
me this evening in getting some work done for their comfort/
Maudes enthusiasm affected her mother. She turned
smilingly to her lady friends, and forgetting for a time all
her little ailments, said gaily ' So we are to be set to work,
you see ! Will you lend your hands, too V
They readily promised, and Maud thanked them, and con-
tinued chatting for some time, with great animation, on this
pleasant subject.
Mrs. Cowley gave orders for certain necessaries to be
packed up for the poor family, and sent off. But Maud begged
that she might go with them, afber luncheon, as cousin Gus
thought it better that the poor woman should receive them
from her hands than from a servant's. So it was arranged,
and no sooner was the meal over than Maud got ready for her
good errand. Miss Beattie excused herself from going, saying
that the cottage was so small it could not contain them all,
and then it was so dirty. ' Ah, yes,' said Gus, ' you must give
the poor wife some lessons in cleanliness, when she gets a
little bettor and more hopeful, Maud.'
^ I ! ' laughed Maud. ' What do I know about house-
keeping V
' Not much, I'm afraid,' said Gus, with mock ghivity. ' But
at any rate you know the difference between dirt and cleanli-
ness. But to get her house in order, the poor woman needs
her husband's co-operation. We must see what we can make
of him bye-and-byo.'
Out into the snow they went again, followed by a servant
with ^ a glorious basketful of things,' as Maud termed it.
When they reached the co,ttage and witnessed the poor
mother's thankfulness, Maud's heart overflowed with a new
delight. Her hands were trembling visibly as she brought
forth the different packets of tea, sugar, and other welcome
gifts; and the murmured thanks of the sorrowful mother
sounded in her ears as sweet as the music of angels. She
had other thanks to offer for a supply of coal which Gus had
ordered to be sent in ; and for a visit from the doctor, who
had prescribed medicine which he assured her would soon ' set
the child all right.'
When the thanks were over, the poor woman looked wist-
fully at the things with which her little table was covered, and
essayed to speak, but hesitated.
Vol. \2.—No. 42. K
146 'Nothing to Bo.'
' What do you wish to say V asked Mand^ kindly.
' If you'll excuse me, miss, I was a-goin' to say there's my
poor old mother as lives a good quarter of a mile off, and I
haven't been able to go and see her these three days, 'cos I
couldn't leave my Tommy here ill. Goodness knows how she's
off this bitter weather, poor old soul ! K you'd be willing,
miss, to give her a bit o' the tea and sugar and rice, I should
take it as kind, or more kinder, than as if you'd gave it all to
me.'
Maud asked particularly about the locality of the cottage,
and added, ' These few things will not be too much for you,
Mrs. Wade ; but we will go and find your mother and see
what she needs. Her name is Jones, you say ?'
' Yes, old Widow Jones she's called, miss.'
' Very well,' said Maud. ' And now what time could we
find your husband at home ? I should like to speak to him.'
' He's at home in mornings, miss, till nearly eleven, and
then he goes out to look for a job o' work. But it's all the
same to me whether he gets any or no, 'cos you see, miss, he
spends nearly every farthing o' money afore he comes home.'
' Don't you think he could be prevailed upon to give up
drinking ?' said Gus.
' Oh sir, if he only would we should be right enough !'
exclaimed the poor wife, but with very little hope in her voice,
' His old master 'ud take him on again, I dessay, for he pities
me and the children ; but then he've put up with so much
from my man that I don't see how he could keep him on.'
' Who was his master ?' asked Gus.
' Farmer Clare, sir, over at Bushby feirm, about a mile from
hero, you know, sir.'
^ I know, Mrs. Wade,' said Maud, ' I often ride that way.'
' He's a fair dealing man, miss, and that can't be said for
all the farmers round here. When my husband kept fair to
his work ho got his fourteen shillin' a week as reg'lar as
clockwork. Now we've got to pick up what crumbles o' food
wo can, day after day, jest like the birds.' At this moment
who should enter but the subject of their conversation ? Mr.
Wado was a strongly built man of medium height, who looked
capable of work, and equally capable of demoralising indul-
gences. His wife looked anxiously at him, and, seeing that
ho was sober, said, ' It's the young lady from Halie Hall,
Tom ; jest see what a sight o' things she've brought me.'
^ Humph !' uttered Mr. Tom, dragging off his cap, and looking^
very awkward, ' It's very kind of her.' Then he relapsed into
an uneasy silence, Gus came to his rescue, and asked him
some questions about work, and his late employer. The man
'Nothing to Do.' 147
was very ill at ease, and spoke evasively. After beating about
the bush a little^ Gus said, ^ It seems to me quite a painful
thing that these little daily necessaries should have to be
supplied to your wife by other hands than your own, Mr. Wade,
you look so strong and able to work ; and then you must
remember that as an Englishman you should have more inde-
pendence of spirit than to remain idle and leave your family
dependent on charity, while you have the power to work and
support them.'
' A fellow can't work, sir, if he can't get work.^
' When he has it he won't keep it, if he isn't steady,' replied
Gus. ' I know that this is the old story of want of work and
food and happiness through drink. I meet with such cases
every week of my life, in London. I also see men give up the
drinkj and so restore peace and prosperity to their homes.
Now, will you give it up ? You can work and live better
without it. Your wife and family and home will be the better
for your giving it up ; your health will be bettor, and so will
your soul ; for to continue drowning your reason and degrading
yourself day after day, is like seUmg your soul to the devil ;
that soul which God deems more precious than the riches of
the world, and for which He gave His Son Jesus to die. We
must be going now ; but do think over what I have said, and
I will call and talk to you again to-morrow. I can prove to
you how well and strong a man can be without strong drink :
look at me ; now I never take any ; but perhaps you will say
I don't work ; yes, I work hard, with my brain, not with my
l^ands j but brain-work exhausts the body quite as much as
bodily labour.'
' Well, really !" said the man, in a softened and interesting
tone, ^ so you never takes none, sir ? • Well, that 'mazes me,
somehow; yet I know as folks can do without : I've met with
some afore as did.'
^ Of course you have, and of course you could do without
yourself, if you would only try,' said Gus. ' Well, we will
call to-morrow ; meanwhile you can think over this subject.'
With many thanks and blessings Mrs. Wade let her good
firiends out. The afternoon was wearing on. 'It will soon
be dark, Maud,' said her cousin. ' Would you like to defer
going to Mrs. Jones ?'
'Oh no, Gus,' said Maud, earnestly. 'Who knows what
trouble she may be in? It might bo cruel to wait till to-
morrow.
'Come along then, you brave little woman!' responded
Gus, drawing her hand within his arm, and starting off at a
brisk pace. In a minute or two he added^ ' It seemed like
148 'Nothing to Do.'
taking the work out of your hands, Maud, for me to make an
onset upon the poor fellow. Wade ; but you must excuse me/
' I was only too glad that you did, Gus, "What could I have
said to him? I know comparatively nothing of drunkenness,
and still less how to deal with it/
' I know that, Maud; it has never been brought under your
notice much. You may have heard that so-and-so was a
drunkard, and you may have seen drunken men in the streets ;
but you have never thought much about them, or tried to
realise what life was to them and to their families. I am quiteT
sure you have not ; for if you had you would not have wanted
words to utter to that man just now. You would not have felt
unable to utter the inciting and helpful words^ '^Here is
a path for you to tread, which will lead you to peace, and
happiness, and comfort. I am walking in it, so I know that
you can. Come, follow me.^^ I knew you could not say that,
Maudie ; so I spoke in your stead for his sake.^
' Oh Gus !^ exclaimea Maud, colouring ; ' do you mean me
to understand that 1. ought to be able so to speak V
' Well, look here, Maud ; I am hoping and believing that
this day is the beginning of a new life for you, that you will
henceforth try to live a more worthy life than you have ever
yet done; that you will not continue this good work for a
week or two, just while I am with you, and then give it up,
and relapse into vapid young-ladyism. I have a pleasant
belief that you will keep bravely on, endeavouring to make
your life ^^ a grand sweet song,^^ which shall stir the hearts
and bless the lives of your needy and sorrowful fellow-crea-
tures ; that you will live so that in the end it may be said of
you, '^ she Imth not lived in vain,'^ and that you may get the
commendation of the Most High, *' Well done, good and
faithful servant.^^ '
' Oh Gus,' exclaimed Maud again, ' it quite pains me to hear
you talk so. You are so good, so immeasurably above me,
and you think my heart is like yours. You seem to forget
that I have been completely wrapped up in selfishness, — so
unlike you, who have been self-sacrificing and devoted for
years/
^ I know you are only a beginner, Maudie ; but then I be-
lieve that you intend to become an earnest worker. Am I
right V
^ I do heartily intend now,' answered Maud, ' and I hope I
may keep on, I am sure/
' You must not forget to ask God's help, or you will most
certainly grow weary in well doing. But to return to our
subject: I do wish that you were able to speak as I did
'Nothing to Do/ 149
just now to Wade, because I am sure that as you carry on the
work which you have begun to-day, you will meet with many
who are suffering from what has impoverished and distressed
this family. There are cases of poverty arising from affliction
or loss, or other causes over which men have no control ; butr
as a rule you will find that the poverty and distress of the*
poorer classes arise from the curse of drink. Therefore, if you
would labour successfully among them, you must take up this
subject ill a thoughtful, self-denying, prayerful spirit, and be-
ware lest you should be a stumbling-block in an erring brother's
way. If you were suffering from, say a spinal disease, and a
doctor came to see you, you would not care for him to talk
about your hands, or feet, or head. You would want some
advice about the part from which you were suffering. So it
seems to me that it is of no use going to a drunkard and talking;
about thia^ thing and the other, and anything but that which
is the uppermost thought in his mind. What be is most con-
sciouB of is that he has a craving for drink, that he is suffer-
ing from it, that he is wasting everything upon it that
is worth possessing. Now if you have thought nothing upon
this everywhere-prevalent form of sin and suffering, if you
have not cared to study it, how can you possibly address
words in season to its victims ?'
^ So you would make a temperance reformer of me, Gus V
said Maud.
'Why not?' returned Gus.
' And you would make what is called a teetotaller of me,
too ?^ continued Maud, smiling.
'Why not?' repeated Gus.
. ' Oh Gus ! it sounds to me like a term of reproach,' said
Maud. 'It goes against all my notions of refinement and
delicacy to take up this temperance question.'
' I would like you to analyze those notions, Maud, at your
leisure, and see if they don't turn out to be a complete mixture
of namby-pambyism and selfishness. You will excuse my
plain speaking,' he added, smiling ; ' you know I'm not going
to mince matters with my little cousin. Then as to bearing
the reproach of being a teetotaller, what a small thing is that
when you consider it is on account of being a friend and
helper to the despairing, that it is for being a truer woman
ana a more self-denying and earnest aspirant after the highest
good (which is evidenced by lowly ministering), than those who
so reproach you. I have faith in your tenderness and strength
of heart, Maud, and I do not think you will be terrified by this
reproach. Let me use a figure. Let me suppose you a dweller
on a sea shore, and one of an immense party of daily bathers.
150 ' Nothing to Bo.'
It is well known that it is most dangerons in this part, and
that persons are being constantly carried out of their depth,
and are in extreme danger of perishing. Some bufifet with
the waves with the strength of despair, and succeed in re-
gaining the shore without any help but that of the Unseen ;
others are rescued by means of boats, which go out among the
struggling to seek to pick up those ready to perish ; others
sink down like lead amid the waters, and are seen no more.
Now observe that all admit on entering this sea that it is
fraught with exceeding peril to many ; it depends upon the*
capabilities of each individual whether these perils can be
braved. Some perish almost directly ; others go continually
out of their depth, and yet return to shore again and again in
safety. There are some on shore who with praiseworthy self-
denial abstain altogether from indulging in the luxury of
entering these waters, simply for the sake of example to the
unwary, and to those who have not strength to keep above
water if they enter. Not only so, but these abstainers actually
man the boats of which I spoke, and go out to drag sinking
persons from destruction.'
^ Ah, that is brave and good!* quietly exclaimed Maud, as
if she were hearing a true story.
' But you must know that these earnest and sympathizing
cruisers — so to speak — have to encounter much scorn and
reproach for their work. They are dubbed rescuers , and that
noble word is used to signify great reproach. The swimmers
call them fools for their pains, and cry out that every man is
able to take care of himself, and knows what is best for him-
self. Sometimes after singling out a sinking one, and rowing
up to him, the rescuer will meet with only revilings from the
perishing person,— so infatuated are many of the swimmers.
Now I put it to your heart, Maud, if you saw a friend or a
neighbour far out struggling in these cruel waters, and you
felt that you were capable of going to the rescue, would you
desist and hold back from a cowardly fear of bearing a simple
term of reproach, and not make one eflfort to save the
perishing T*
' Indeed, I would not,' answered Maud, earnestly. ' I see
what you mean, Gus.'
' Then, let me ask, Maud, what if you went out so, and met
with such words as these from the perishing : — '^ Yes, you ask
me to forsake these waters and never enter them again, and
yet you enter them yourself every day. It is said that they
are necessary to health, and they minister to pleasure ; but
you tell me to deny myself that which you enjoy .'* What
could you reply, Maud ? You might say that you were too
'Nothing to Do.' 151
confident in your powers, and had too little inclination, ever
to get out of your depth ; but they might retort, " How do you
know ? I was once as confident as you are, yet here I am/'
But if you could say, " I can prove to you that you can be
healthier and happier by refraining from coming near these
waters than by entering them, for I never enter them, so
come and let us bear each other company in the enjoyments
of the safe and pleasant shore/^ '
* Ah, I see, Grus,' said Maud, giving his arm a little squeeze.
, ^ You are a good, wise fellow, and you know how to convince
me of my foolishness. I will certainly enter your bonnie
boat, and deem it a duty and a privilege to be a " Rescuer/'
Whatever will they all say at home when I announce that you
are making a convert to temperance of me ! *
* You will brave all they can say quite nicely, I am sure,'
answered Gus. 'Now before I drop my figure, I want to take
you a step farther. We will suppose that it is to the interest
of hundreds and thousands of thoughtless, selfish people to
lure their fellow-creatures towards these waters, and to assist
them in getting out of their depth. We will suppose that it
is patent to everybody who has eyes to see that this enormity
is daily practised, and that the well-known consequence is
that tens of thousands of poor creatures perish every year
through the eflforts of these allurers. We will suppose that
the Government of the place actually throws around these
destroyers the mantle of its protection, and affords them
fisbcilities for carrying on their Satanic work. Not only so, but
it has to spend thousands of pounds to rear and keep open
buildings to receive those who get maddened in these waters,
and have to be dragged out and consigned to keepers, and
for those who get maddened so far as to cause them to commit
violent outrages upon their fellow-creatures.'
' It would be insane of any Government,' said Maud.
' Yet that is just what our Government does,' replied Gus.
' But to continue. Suppose a band of men and women on
shore protested against the Government's aiding and abetting
these destroyers in their ghastly work, and urged upon it to
withdraw its patronage and protection from such monstrous
evil-doines, iJso to use its power to prevent the weak and
unwary from thus gliding away to destruction, by placing
needful barriers in their way, — what would you say about
such a band of people ? Would you call them mere fools and
enthusiasts ? or would you not rather say they were champions
of the right — persons of common sense and right feeling ? '
' The latter, most certainly,' replied Maud, who had been
listening with great attention.
152 'Nothing to Do.'
'Well, such a band exists in our country, Maud, and I,
after much thought and deliberation, have joined it. I want
you to read all about it, and think over it by-and-by, and see
if you cannot intelligently become one of us/
' So you think the law should and could put down drunken-
ness ? ^ said Maud.
' I think that the law should and could foster the right, and
not the wrong, as it is now doing in relation to the drink
traffic. It should protect a people as much as possible from
ruin, and not afford them facilities for rushing to it as quickly
as possible; above all, it should not set traps to catch the
feet of the young and unwary, and cause them to stumble to
their irremediable hurt.'
After walking a little distance in thoughtful silence, he
added, ' We will have a few more chats on this subject, Maud.
I see a cottage which I think must be Widow Jones's. We
must not stay there long, you know ; if I keep you out much
beyond dusk, your mamma will not thank me for my impru-
dence.'
They had no difficulty in finding the widow, and a very
pleasant visit it proved to all three. The comely old body,
very poor and infirm, but very neat and tidy in her person and
her house, was overjoyed and astonished to be called upon by
' the young lady at the hall,' and a most providential call it
proved to be ; for the poor woman was reduced to great straits,
and did not know where to look for food for the morrow, only
to Grod. Maud's bountiful errand strengthened the old
woman's faith. ' I am quite sure as God sent you. Miss,' she
said, with tears of gratitude.
On their way home Maud's heart was lighter than she had
felt it for a long time. ^ It seems, Gus,' she said, ' as if you
had led me into a new world to-day ; and so you have, you
good old thing ! You have led me out of the world of self
into the world of sympathy and work for others.'
' And you will remain in this new world V said Gus.
' I hope so, and really mean to,' replied Maud.
'Don't trust to your own wisdom and strength, Maudie.
Ask God's help and guidance continually.'
' I will try to,' said Maud, softly. ^ Though it will seem so
strange, Gus. I don't think I have ever really prayed in my
life, — that is, you know, I have never deeply felt the need of
anvthing. Now, I actually feel the need of forgiveness for
bemg all my life so selfish, and unmindful of my duty to God
and man.'
' That, and all else that you need, you may get through our
Saviour,' replied Gus, with grave tenderness. ' I do hope.
'Nothing to Do J 153
•
dear Maud^ that in the highest sense this will be the beginning
of a new life to you, — a life of faith in Him; a life of good
works resulting from that faith/
Maud entered her home quiet and thoughtful. Her Mamma
feared she was depressed by what she had seen, or over-tired ;
but Maud soon regained her cheerful demeanour, and playfully
begged them to hold themselves in readiness to begin work
directly after dinner. A very happy evening they spent.
Even Mrs. Cowley forgot to expatiate upon her small personal
afiSictions, and there was gossip of no doleful sort. ' Band and
gusset and seam ' kept fair fingers in busy motion that hitherto
had seldom, if ever, been employed on such worthy work. The
gentlemen watched them with extreme interest, kept a con-
stant supply of threaded needles for them, and took it in turns
to read aloud or play for the fair workers' amusement. The
time seemed to speed by on magically fleet wings. There was
no room left to wish he would go faster, no yawning, no
plaint of ' Nothing to do.'
' Well,' said Mrs. Cowley, as she was busy at a flannel petti-
coat, ^ I could not have believed that I should be able to sit
up at this time in the evening stitching away like a poor seam-
stress working for bread ! Yet I do not remember feeling so
easy both in mind and body for a very long time. I must
thank you, Maud, for devising so good a remedy for our usual
evening ailments, — mental and physical inertness.'
' There's a fellow at school,' remarked Fred, turning round
on the piano-stool, aftei* adjusting his music, ' a bit of a bore
in his way, you know, who is always affirming that there's
nothing like work to cure the blues, and make one forget one's
self. Next time he bores me with his favourite axiom, I'll
inform him that I learnt that at home in the Christmas holidays,
and so put a stop to his cuckoo cry.'
Thereupon Mr. Fred turned, and filled the apartment with
sounds more melodious.
To Maud's great satisfaction one or two garments wore
ready by the next morning to take to Mrs. Wade. Maud and
her cousin had to go alone with them, as Miss Beattio and
Fred wished to go out riding.
It was a bright frosty morning ; yesterday's snow glittered
under the morning sun like gems, and the air was clear and
exhilarating. With a light heart Maud set out on her third
benevolent errand. 6us enjoyed seeing her genuine enjoy-
ment ; and they laughed and chatted on their way, two as
happy-hearted young folks as the sun shone upon that day.
They found Mr. Wade at home, washed and tidy, as if he
had been preparing a little for visitors. Ho was nursing his
154 ^Nothing to Do.'
sick child by the fire, and the care with which he drew an old
shawl around the little one^s head while the door was open,
evinced a fatherly care and thoughtfulness which his years of
mis-doing had not wholly destroyed.
He presently confessed that he had waited in ' a purpose to
have another bit o^ talk with the good gentleman/ Gus was
very glad of this opportunity to strengthen Waders desire for
a new and better life, and gave him what encouragement and
advice he could. In conclusion Wade said : ' Well, you know,
sir, Fve been thinking as if you could do without the drink,
surely J could, sir ; and so Fm going to try. Pm very thankful
as one came in my way who've set me the example : example
is better than words, sir.'
' Well, Mr. Wade,' said Maud bravely, 'when this gentleman
is gone, you will still occasionally see one who is following his
example ; for I intend to give up entirely taking the little I
have been accustomed to, for the sake of being an example to
those who take too much.'
' That's very good. Miss,' said Wade, while Gus smiled his
thanks and warm approbation to Maud, who involuntarily
turned her glowing face towards him. ' That's right. Miss,'
added Wade ; ' there's enough for the ladies to do as well as
the gentlemen. Now, I think the ladies might speak to the
women about this sometimes ; but they don't seem to think
as how the poor bodies needs it. ' Wever, I know one or two,
not a hundred miles off, who wants speaking to about this
very thing, for it's a dreadful thing to see wives and mothers
giving themselves up to this drink, Miss.'
' Could I go and see the poor women you allude to ?' asked
Maud with great interest.
' You could one of 'em,' said Wade, ' and that is one of
your old servants, Sarah Bryce, as was housemaid at the hall
k she got married/
' Sarah Bryce,' echoed Maud. ' And do you really mean to
say that she drinks V
^ She does, indeed, Miss. I've heard a good deal about her,
and Fve seen a bit myself. Fve had to pass her house twice
a day for years, you know. Miss. She lives about half way to
Farmer Clare's, .If she could be seen to in time it 'ud be the
saving o' the family from ruin, I'll venture to say.'
' We will certainly go and see her,' said Maud readily.
Before leaving the cottage Gus was quite satisfied that the
man had a sincere desire to go on better, and to make an effort
to conquer his drinking habits ; so Gus promised to go and
speak to Farmer Clare in his behalf, and see whether he could
get the man re-installed in his old place. This raised the
'Nothing to Do/ 155
spirits of the family wonderfully, and inspired them with
happy hope. '
In the afternoon our two earnest workers proposed going
on horseback to Farmer Clarets. This errand of peace-making
was most enjoyable to Maud. After some little pleasant alterca-
tion with the farmer, they succeeded in overruling his objections
to taking Wade back, and got him to promise to ' try the
troublesome customer once more.' So far that was well. On
their way back to Wade's they called at Mrs. Bryce's cottage.
Maud alighted, and Gus took her horse's bridle, and said he
would ride about until Maud came out : he thought it best that
she should go and see her old servant alone.
Maud was in the cottage a full quarter of an hour, and when
she re^appeared her eyes bore traces of tears. Grus helped
her to mount, and for a minute or so they rode in silence.
^ It is a sad case, I fear, Maud V Gus said at length.
' Sad, yet hopeful, if one may hope for the penitent,' replied
Maud. And then she told with what gratitude the poor woman
received her, and how with many tears she confessed her misery
and wickedness, and her loathing of the life she was now
leading,— estranged from her husband, and a terror and
sorrow to her little children.
' I will go to her again and again,' said Maud in conclusion,
^ and persevere in trying to allure her to become a good wife
and mother. Oh, Gus ! I have felt until this week that there
was nothing for me to do in life, that time was long and very
heavy on my hands : now I feel that there is so much to be
done, that one would require fifty lifetimes to attend to
different cases of sin, and want, and trouble, that one may
meet with by just looking around and making a few inquiries.
I feel confident that I shall evermore have my hands full of
work : one case will lead to another, as I have found it do
already.'
^And when you get more to do than you can possibly
attend to, you must try to enlist some of your friends in your
good work, and so extend the circle of your influence,' said
Gtis.
They took their pleasant message to Wade ; and the next
. morning he returned in right good earnest to his old work.
The sewing-party stitched away for the next few evenings,
much to their own pleasure and satisfaction, and to the benefit
of those for whom they worked.
At the end of another week Mr. Gus went away, but not
before he and Maud had held several pleasant confabulations
about future work. Maud got abundance of good counsels and
encouragements to proceed.
156 'Nothing to Do.'
Miss Beattie remained behind for another fortnight. During^
that time 'she was Maudes constant companion in her benevo-
lent errands. Maud tried to prevail upon her to take an active
part on these occasions ; but Miss Beattie invariably held
back^ and assured Maud that she really could not be spokes-
woman. ^ You know, Maudie^ speaking is not my forte/ she
said, one day, ' I confess, that during my visit here, I have
been inspired with a wish to do something to help and benefit
my fellow-creatures. As your cousin Grus said, it is not
worthy of any woman to live wholly to herself. Well, I don^i
wish to live such a selfish life as I have been accustomed to
live. I want to do something ; but I must be content to work
in a very humble way — at least at first. A young friend of
mine near home was asking me in the autumn if I would join
a sewing-class which she had established for the benefit of the
aged poor of a district at the West End. I declined, of course,
and laughed the idea to scorn. Go to a Dorcas meeting
indeed ? Not I ! But now, Maudie, I have resolved to call
on my friend directly I return to London, and oflTer her my
services. That will be doing a little, and it may be the
beginning of something greater.'
^ I am very glad you have made such a resolve, Grace,' said
Maud, with snaling enthusiasm, ' we shall both come to be very
busy bodies, in the best sense of the term, by-and-by, Pm
confident.'
Even the elderly Christmas visitors, the calm, easy-going,
indolent old dowagers, caught the infection of Maud's zeal,
and avowed their intention of looking out for something to do
as soon as they found themselves back at their home in the
Isle of Wight.
As the spring advanced Maud wrote her cousin Gus happy
accounts of the progress she was making, of her enlarged
sphere of action, and so forth. She was glad to be able to
tell that Mr. Wade was going on admirably, and giving the
greatest satisfaction to his old master ; that Mrs. Bryce had
taken the pledge two months ago, and was keeping it bravely^
and that peace and comfort now prevailed in her once miser-
able home ; that poor old widow J ones was as well as could be
expected, and so forth. In conclusion she wrote, ' I am so
taken up with my work that I entirely forget myself; and as
for raising the doleful, and, I may say, sinful cry of '^ Nothing
to do," — that has not once escaped my lips since that memor-
able day when you led me to work.'
Gus replied with many words of commendation and en-
couragement, and in the course of his remarks said : — ' You
remember that fine poem of Jean IngeloVs,' — The Star's
Tlie Unsteady Hand. 157
Monument. I have been fancying the words which the lady-
uttered to the poet, as falling from your lips, Maud. Afler
speaking of getting for her *' wages and diadem '' the love of
those for whom she has worked, the lines run : —
** Then when I died, I should not fall, (says she),
Like dropping flowers Uiat no man notioeth ;
Bat like s great branch of some stately tree
Kent in a tempest, and flung down to death.
Thick with green leafage, — so that piteonsly
Each passer-by that ruin shuddereth,
And saitn, — The gap tkU branch hath Uft is wide ;
The loss thereof can never be supplied* "
THE UNSTEADY HAND.
^ T^HERE is a greater curse than drunkenness,^ said Dr.
X Grantley.
' It may be so,^ I answered, ^ but it so happens that I am
not aware of its name or existence.'
' Moderate drinking,' said the Doctor, with an emphasis of
tone and manner that showed him to be very much in earnest.
Dr. Grantley was somewhat of an enthusiast on the subject
of temperance ; yet a clear, strong thinker. I did not expect
from him any special pleading or begging of the question.
'I should like to hear you make good the assertion,' I
replied.
^ Nothing is easier. The fact is so plain, that I am surprised
it is not seen by every one.'
' I am all attention ; make it plain to me,' said I.
' You do not trust a drunkard in any responsible position,'
he replied. ^ You would not, if he were a lawyer, give an im-
Eortant cause into his hands ; nor, if he were a surgeon, risk
im with a delicate operation. Known drunkards are not
put in command of ships, nor in charge of steam engines, nor
assigned to places where life, property, or important interests
are at stake. Once class a man with drunkards, and you
narrow his influence, both for good and evil, to a small circle.
You rule him out of the great world of action, and render
him comparatively harmless. He is his own worst enemy— >
disgnsting to all around him ; but of thus much use, that he
is a living expounder of the evils of intemperance, teaching
by example their saddest and most humiliating lesson.
'But your respectable, virtuous, high-minded, moderate
drinkers,' the Doctor, continued, 'hold to society a very
different relation. They command your ships and armies;
158 The Unsteady Hand.
they are your lawyers, your surgeons, your engineers, your
mercliants and manufacturers, with whom you risk your goods
and money. You trust them with your highest and best
worldly interests. And it never seems to occur to you that
they who drink sometimes tarry long at the wine ; and may,
in some fatal moment, when a clear head or steady hand is the
only guaranty of success or safety, hurt you, through a slight
and temporary incapacity, beyond repair/
I drew a long breath as the magnitude of a danger I had
not thought of loomed up before me with an almost appaling
distinctness.
' While we count the drunkards who are not trusted by
tens,' said the Doctor, ' we may count this other class, who
hold our lives and property in their hands, by thousands.'
I observed that Dr. Grantley's voice had in it a low thrill,
and that he was unusually disturbed.
' You feel strongly on this subject,' I said.
'There is cause,' he answered, dropping his tones, and
bending his head forward, as though a weight had fallen on it
suddenly. He was silent for an nnusually long time.
' I will give you,' he said at length, ' an illustration of what
I mean. Are you at leisure for haJf an hour ? '
' Entirely at your service.'
' I drink nothing stronger than tea or coffee, as you are
aware. Once I took my glass of wine at dinner and in social
circles. It was genteel ; had in it a smack of good breeding,
and familiarity with society. I cultivated the little vanities of
connoisseurslup, and talked in the usual self-satisfied way of
brands, vintages, flavours and the like, as fluently as any one.
I had, so to speak, all the wine-lingos at my finger ends, and
was not a little proud of the accomplishment.
' My special work, as you know, is surgery ; a work that, of
all others, requires the clear head and steady hand. There
are occasions when, if the knife passes by a hundredth
part of an inch from the right direction, a fatal result is inevi-
table. We cut down into Sie quivering flesh, and grope about
darkly amid sensitive nerves and life-blooded arteries, with
death waiting eagerly for some fatal breach in the delicate
organism.
' We hear frequent allusions made to steadying the nerves
with wine or brandy. I was sufficiently well acquainted with
the action of this class of stimulants on myself to refuse them
altogether for at least twenty-four hours prior to the per-
formance of even the slightest surgical operation. I would
have regarded it as criminal to take a glass of wine just before^
using the scalpel, because its effect would have been to disturb
The TJtisteady Hand, 159
the free and rapid directions of my will to the cutting hand,
hindering, confusing, and it might be rendering death cert€kin
where I was trying to save life.
' I know that it is the custom with some surgeons to steady
their nerves with wine or brandy before going to the operating
table ; but I think it will be found in nearly all of these cases
that the habitual use of these articles has substituted an
artificial for a normal steadiness of nerve, and that the stimu-
lant has become a necessity through abuse. It is said of
professional gamblers that many of them rigidly abstain from
drink in order to secure clear heads and steady hands for
their infamous work. The surgeon, of all other men, should
profit by their example.'
' Did it not occur to you,' I said,. ' that in your own social
use of wines you were gradually substituting this general
artificial steadiness of nerve for the natural and healthy, and
that, in time, your abstinence, preliminary to using the knife,
might defeat the end in view ? That nature might not rally
her forces quickly enough after the withdrawal of substitutes V*
' Yes ; this very thought that you suggest did often present
itself; but I pushed it aside. It was not agreeable ; and I
would not look it calmly in the face. I had come to like the
taste of wine, and to enjoy a social glass with my friends.
' Surgery was my first love, and I pursued its study and
practice with an interest and ardour that never abated. My
opportunities were good, and I made the best of them. After
acting as assistant in a large hospital for two years, I went to
Paris and Vienna, spending two years in the admirably con-
ducted hospitals of those cities, under circumstances of special
advantage. Returning, I entered, at the ago of twenty-six,
on the practice of my profession. In five years I had estab-
lished a reputation as wide as the country. Many of my
operations, some of them almost unheard of in the profession,
were reported in our own and transferred to foreign medical
journals. I had more than the fame I coveted.
' There was a period in my professional life when scarcely a
day passed without some call on me for the skill that lay in
my practised hand ; and scarcely a week without some pro-
longed and difficult or dangerous operation. The strain on
my nerves was very great ; the amount depending very much
on the character and condition of my patients, and the degree
of risk involved.
' It was about this time, when reports of my brilliant opera-
tions were spoken of as a perpetual surprise, that the event
occurred which I am about to relate.
' I had a friend, older by several years, with whom I had
160 The Unsteady Sand,
long been intimate. He Had watched my professional debut
and career with an interest as deep as he could have felt in a
brother ; and ho was very proud of my success. One day he
came to my office, and after a word or two, said, a look of
concern settling on his face — " I wish you would call in and
examine a lump on Miriam^s neck.*'
' He spoke of his wife.
^ " What kind of a lump ? *' I asked.
' ^^ It is about the size of a walnut, and is increasing in size,
I think, quite rapidly .^^
^ " It may be only the temporary swelling of a gland," I re-
marked, with assumed indifference. " Is it sore to the touch V
^ " Not in the least; but Miriam begins to complain of a sense
of obstruction, 'as if there were pressure on a blood vessel.
Fve wished to speak to you about it for some time, but she
would not consent."
^ '^ Only about the size of a walnut ?" I inquired.
' ^^ May be a little larger, though not much."
' '* I will call round this afternoon and look at it," said I.
^ ^' Tell Mrs. Baldwin to expect me about four o^clock. You
will be at homo ?"
' '^ Oh, yes," he replied, and turned to go. But there were
questions in his mind that he could not leave without asking.
* '' Doctor," he said, coming back and sitting down, '' this may
seem a very small matter in your eyes, but I am seriously
troubled. It is no swelling of a gland, but a tumour. Of that
I am satisfied."
^ " What is the exact location f " I asked.
^ '' On a line with the ear, and just above the collar bone."
' We were both silent for a time.
^ ^^ As I said. Doctor," my friend resumed, " this thing has
troubled me from the beginning. It rests like a heavy weight
on my spirits. It shadows me with a strange foreboding. I
am foolish, perhaps."
^ ^^ Over sensitive about anything that touches one so dear as
your wife,'^ I answered, with a smile. " It is natural. But
don^t give yourself needless anxiety. Tumours in the neck
are usually benignant, as we say, and surgical skill ensures
their safe removal."
' '^ Can they not be extirpated without using the knife ?" he
asked — '^re-absorbed by a restored healthy action of the
parts ? "
' "In rare instances this has occurred. But there is no estab-
lished treatment on which we can rely. In my own practice
I have not met with a single case where a well-developed
tumor was re-absorbed by a normal action of the parts.^
>}
Tlie Unsteady Hand. 161
' '^ At four o^ clock this affcemoon. Doctor/^ Mr. Baldwin
arose.
* " At four promptlj" I answered. And he went away.
^Mrs. Baldwin received me with a quiet cheerfulness of
manner^ saying — " My husband is apt to worry himself about
little things, as you are aware.^^
' Her composure was only assumed ; I felt that, as her hand
lay in mine. My first diagnosis was not satisfactory, and I
found great difficulty in concealing the doubts that troubled
me. The swelling was clearly outlined, but not so sharply
protuberant as I had been led to suppose by the likeness to a
walnut which my friend had suggested. I feared, from its
shape and presentation at the surface, and also from the fact
that the patient complained of a sense of pressure on the
vessels of the neck, that the tumour was deeply seated, and
much larger than my friend had suspected. But I was most
concerned as to its character. Being hard and perceptibly
nodulated, there was in my mind an apprehension that it
might prove malignant in character, and the apprehension
was made stronger by the fact that my patient had a scrofulous
diathesis.
' There was no congestion of the veins, nor discoloration of
skin around the hard protuberance ; no pulsation, elasticity,
fluctuation, or soreness— only a solid lump that I recognised
as the small section or lobule of a deeply seated tumour, al-
ready beginning to press upon and obstruct the blood-vessels.
It might be fibrous or. albuminous — ^benignant or malignant ;
which, in this, my first diagnosis, I was not able to determine.
But for the constitutional habit of my patient, I should have
concluded favourably.
' It was not easy to veil my concern from Mr. Baldwin, who
followed down stairs after I had finished the examination,
and phed me with eager questions.
^'^Deal plainly with me. Doctor,'^ said he. "I wish to
know exactly what you think. Don't conceal anything.'^
' His blanching lips, and voice pitched to a low key that its
tremor might be hidden, told plainly enough that I must con-
ceal every apprehension that troubled me.
' " It presents all the indications of what we call a fibrous
tomour/' said I.
' " Are they of a malignant type ?" ho asked, with suspended
breath.
' " No ; they are entirely harmless, but for their mechanical
pressure on surrounding vessels, tissues, and organs. '^
' He caught his breath with a deep sigh of relief; then
asked-—
Vol. 11.— i^o. 42. L
162 Tlie Unsteady Hand.
))y
' " Is there any danger in their removal V
' " None/^ I replied. ,
' ^^ Have you ever taken a tumour from the neck ? '' he
asked.
* '^ More than a dozen. ^^
' " Were you always successful ?"
' '' Always.''
' His breath came more freely. Then, after a little pause, ho^
said —
^ '^ There will have to be an operation in this case ?" I saw
his lips grow white again.
^ " I fear that it cannot be avoided.''
' '^ There is one comfort," Mr. Baldwin remarked, his voice
rallying to an almost cheerful tone, '^ the tumour is small, and
evidently superficial in its character. The knife will not have
to go very deep among the arteries, veins, *and nerves, so
thickly gathered about the neck." ^ ^ *
' I did not correct his error. /
' " How long will it take ?" he next queried.
' " Not very long," I answered evasively.
' '' Ten minutes ?"
' " Yes ; perhaps a little longer."
' " She will not be conscious of pain ?"
' " No ; no more conscious than if she were a sweetly sleep-
ing infant."
' Mr. Baldwin walked nervously the whole length of the par-
lour twice ; then stood still in front of me.
' " Doctor," he said solemnly, " I pldce her in your hands.
She will consent to do anything I may conclude it best to do.
We have entire confidence in your judgment and skill."
^ He stopped short, and turned partly away to hide excess of
feeling. Rallying after a moment, he continued, with a forced
smile on his lips —
' " To your professional eyes I show unmanly weakness.
But, you must bear in mind how dear she is. Doctor ! It
makes me shiver in every nerve to think of the knife going
down into her tender flesh. You might cut me to pieces
if that would save her."
' " Your fears exaggerate the realitv, Mr. Baldwin," I
replied. " She will go into a deep sleep, and while she
dreams pleasant dreams, we will simply dissect out the tumour,
with all its foreign accumulations, and leave the healthy organs
to continue their action under the old laws of unobstructed
life."
' ^^ I am weak and foolish, I know," he answered, " but I
can't help it. The whole thing touches too nearly home.^
}9
TJie Uiisteady Hand. 163
' " As I was leaving, ho said, '^ Doctor, how soon ought it
to be done ? '*
^ " The sooner the better/^ I returned, ''after the hot weather
is over. Say in October. In the meantime, I will carefully
watch its growth and condition/^
' My next examination of the tumour, made in about a
fortnight, satisfied me that it was deeply seated, and probably
as large as a small orange. The protruding portion was only
a smsll lobe of the foreign body. A substance so large, and of
r. ^ so hard a texture, must necessarily cause serious displacement
o£ the blood-vessels, nerves, glands and muscles of the neck,
and render an early extirpation necessary to save life. In the
tw6 weekeittiere had been perceptible growth.
'' Doring^he next two months I saw Mrs. Baldwin frequently,
aA^ noticed'^th concern increasing signs of pressure on the
cf^lgi^Sr^dicated by a slight sufiusion of the face. The
midBld'w October was set down as the time when the opera-
tion should be made. As the period approached, I felt a
nervous dread about the case. I had consulted the most
distinguished surgeon in the city, my senior by over fiftiecn
years. His diagnosis agreed in every particular with my own.
We were satisfied that it was a fibrous tumour, non-malignant,
but so deeply cast among the great vessels, and probably so
attached to their sheaths, as to render extirpation a difficult,
and, without great caution, a dangerous operation.
' This was the only case, in all my practice, wherein I felt
like transferring the responsibility to another. Not because of
the difficulty — that would only have quickened my ardor — ^but
because Mrs. Baldwin was the tenderly beloved wife of the
oldest, warmest, and truest friend I possessed ; and I knew
that personal feeling would come in, and might disturb the
cool equilibrium of mind so essential to skill and steadiness
of hand.
'As the time approached, my concern increased. So op-
pressive did this become, that at last I sent for Mr. Baldwin,
and seriously proposed that Dr. B , the eminent surgeon
to whom I have just referred, should be called on to perform
the operation.
' "He is older, and has a larger experience,^ I said. "All
the profession award to him the first place in our city, if not
in the country/'
"'I have no doubt of his skill,'' replied my friend, speaking
in a firm decided way, " but his skill is not supplemented with
sobriety. You know that as well as I do. His habit of drinking
too freely has become a thing of common notoriety, and is
gradually destroying pubUc confidence. Oh, no, Doctor ! The
164 The Unsteady Hand,
hand that cats down into her dear flesh must be steadied by
healthy nerves, and not by wine or brandy ! I will not hear
of it. The man is a drunkard — I call his habitual and ex-
cessive use of strong drink by its right name — and so I set
him aside. I will not run any risk with a drunkard. He
hangs out a sign on which is written. Beware ! I read it, and
pass over to the other side, getting out of the way of danger ! "
^ I felt strongly the force of all this, and said no more about
Dr. B . The day came at last. Ten o'clock was the hour
at which the operation was to be performed. For two whole
days I had strictly abstained from even a glass of wine, giving
my nervous system that long period in which to recover the
natural steadiness which might have been weakened through
over-action occasioned by stimulants.
^ Mr. Baldwin called on me as early as eiffht o'clock. He
was very nervous, and oppressed by evil forebodings. The
number and variety of the questions he had to ask, annoyed
me ; for I could not answer them truthfully, without adding to
his overwrought fears. Not that I apprehended danger, for I
was master of my profession, and knew the exact location of
every artery, vein, nerve, gland, and muscle, among which I
had to pass the scalpel. Nay, in order* to make assurance
doubly sure, I had spent an hour in the dissecting-room on
the day before, giving to the anatomical organism of the
neck a new and close examination. I had but to extirpate a
tumour — ^badly located, it is true — and this any skilful surgeon
might safely accomplish. A steady and confident hand, and
favouring circumstances, were all that he required.
^ I carefiilly concealed my annoyance under a light, almost
playful exterior, and rallied him for his unmanly weakness —
called the operation one of minor importance, involving little
risk. I could not reassure him, however, A shadow of com-
ing evil rested darkly on his spirit.
^ At ten o'clock, accompanied by three assistants, one of
them a surgeon of tried skill, I repaired to the house of my
friend. The white face and scared look of the servant who
admitted us, and asked us to go up to the front chamber in
the second story, was nothing in my professional eyes, and
did not in the least disturb the equmoise of mind essential to
my work. In the hall above Mr. Baldwin's trembling hand
grasped mine with a silent pressure. I smiled as I said,
^^ Good morning I " in an unconcerned voice, and passed into
the room where the operation was to be made. The table I
had selected was there. Quickly and silently, acting from
previous concert, we placed this table in the best relation to
the lightj arranged instruments, bandages, and all things
Tlie Unsteachj Hand. 165
necessary to the work in hand, and then, after giving to thid
preparation the temporary concealment in our power, an-
nounced our readiness.
' In a moment after Mrs. Baldwin entered from the adjoining'
chamber. She was a beautiful woman, in the prime of life.
Never had she looked more beautiful than now. Her strong
will had mastered fear ; and strength, courage, and resigna-
tion- looked out from her clear eyes, and rested on her firm
lips.
' She smiled, but did not speak. I took her by the hand and
led her to the table on which she was to lie during the opera-
tion, saying, as I did so, '^ It will all be over in a few minutes,
and you won't feel it as much as a pin scratch.'^
^ As soon as she was in position, an assistant, according to
arrangement, presented the sponge saturated with ether, and
in two minutes complete anaesthesia was produced. On the
instant, I made an incision, and cut quickly down to the tumour.
It was a hard, fibrous substance ; and a few carefully-made
efforts to dissect it away from the surrounding parts, confirmed
my previous opinion that it was large and deeply seated. But
I understood my business, and was now so entirely interested
in what I was doing, that I forgot my patient's identity, and
so pursued the work in hand with a concentration of thought
and purpose that gave science and skill their best result. It
took full twenty-five minutes to separate the tumour from all
the blood-vessels, nerves, and muscles it had involved. At
the end of thirty minutes we bore our patient, still insensible,
to her bed in the adjoining chamber, and laid her down gently,
as one in quiet sleep — the ordeal safely over.
' I shall never forget the look of sweet thankfulness that came
into her eyes, as, not long after, I told her that the operation
she had so long dreaded had been safely performed.
' " And I knew nothing of it ! " she whispered ; then added,
shutting her eyes, and speaking to herself — " It is wonderful !
Thank God for this, among other manifold blessings ! ''
' As for my friend, he wrung my hands, and cried for excess
of joy with unmanly weakness. A surgeon sees much of
htrman nature on this side. My hands were in a tremor now,
and I took a glass of wine to steady them. Two hours after-
ward I called on my patient, and found her sleeping ; and at
four o'clock I called again. At five I was engaged to dine at
the house of a professional friend, and meet some gentlemen
from a neighbouring city. Everything was, apparently, in a
safe condition, and I went to my dinner engagement with a
mind altogether at ease.
' Dr. , at whose house I dined that day, was what wo call
166 I he Unsteady Hand.
a good liver, and dainty in wines. He liked to talk of his well-
filled cellar, and of the brands and vintages from which it was
stocked ; and he usually succeeded in transferring to his guests
a measure of his own weakness. Contagion works easily in
this direction. There were, on this occasion, four or five
difierent kinds of wine on the table, and our host seemed to
feel that in no better way could he manifest hospitality than
in pressing us often to drink. The abstinence I had practised
for a couple of days, and the relief of mind felt in consequence
of the successfiil result of an operation I had almost dreaded
to perform, naturally led me to a freer use of the tempting
liquors that were set before us. As bottle after bottle was
opened, and the vintage announced, we filled our glasses,
sipped, praised, and drank, greatly to the satisfaction of our
host, who flattered himself that we were connoisseurs and full
of admiration for his exquisite taste in selection.
' I was just lifting up my fifth glass, when a servant, stooping
to my ear, said, — " Doctor, you are called for in haste.'*
'Rising, I asked to be excused for a moment, and went
down stairs. One of my students was in the hall.
' " What is it, Harding ? '' I asked.
' " An artery inMrs. Baldwin's neck has commenced bleeding,
and they have sent for you to come as quickly as possible.''
' " Have you my instrument case ? " I inquired.
' " Yes, sir."
' ^' And the carriage ? "
'"Yes, sir."
' " Ether ? "
Everything that can be needed," he answered.
Thank you, Harding ! Thank you ! Your thoughtful
promptness has saved much time." I hurried into the carriage
with my student, and drove rapidly to the house of Mr.
Baldwin.
' If I could have forgotten the fact of having taken so
freely of wine, the stimulant of the occasion might have
oveiTidden the access, and given me the steady hand and
clear mental poise so much needed now. But, so far from for-
getting, the fact threw itself with a shock into my con-
sciousness; and, with almost a shiver of alarm, I noted a
mental confusion and want of physical command, that unfitted
me for any use of the surgeon's knife. But the exigency was
pressing. I could not tell, until I saw my patient, how copious
the haemorrhage might be, nor how immediate the danger.
'Mr. Baldwin met me on my entrance, looking greatly
alarmed.
' " Oh, Doctor ! I'm so glad you have come ! I was afraid
she might bleed to death."
The Unsteady Hand. 167
' '' No danger of that/^ I answered, with feigned unconcern.
* '^ Some small artery, not well ligated, has given way, and will
have to be tied again /^
^ Ah ! if he could have seen the low shiver running along my
own nerves, as the closing words of the sentence struck my
own ears ! Not that the religation of an artery under the
circumstances was a very difficult or serious affair. It was
my condition that made the case one of extreme peril.
' Don't think,' said the Doctor, ' that I was what is called
the worse for wine Under almost any other circumstances,
except those thrust upon me so unexpectedly, I should hardly
have noticed a difference of sensation or condition.'
He paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead; then
resumed —
' I found, on reaching my patient, that one of the largest of
the small arteries I had deemed it necessary to cut in separ-
ating the tumour from the surrounding tissues, was bleeding
freely. Half a dozen handkerchiefs and napkins had already
been saturated with blood. The case demanded prompt
treatment. I must open the wound, find the artery, and
tie it again.
' Ether was promptly given, and as soon as the patient was
fairly under its influence, I removed the dressings, and cut
the few sutures with which I had drawn the wound together.
The cavity left by the tumour was full of blood. After re-
moving this with sponges, I could see, at the extreme lower
part of the orifice, a free jet of blood, and knew just the artery
that must again be taken up and tied. The surrounding parts
had swollen, thus embedding the mouth of the artery, and I
could not recover it without cutting deeper. To this I pro-
ceeded, but with a nervous unsteadiness of hand such as I had
never experienced in all my professional life ; a nervousness
increased by a knowledge of the fact that the internal jugular
vein was only a few lines distant from the keen-pointed edge
of the bistoury, with which I was cutting down to get to the
bleeding artery.
' There came a single moment in which I lost a clear per-
ception of what I was doing. I seemed smitten suddenly
with both physical and mental blindness ; as if some malig-
nant spirit, coming nearer through the disordered condition
wrought by unnatural stimulation, took possession of all my
powers, and in an instant wrought an evil that no human
agency could repair. A sound it had never been my mis-
fortune to hear before — and I pray God I may never hear
again — startled me to an agonising sense of what my un-
nerved hand had done in a fatal moment of oblivion. Too
168 The Unsteady Har^.
well I knew the meaning of that loud, hissing, sucking, and
gurgling sound that smote my ear. I had wounded the jugular
vein, and air was rushing in !
'If I had possessed full command of myself, as in the
morning, imminent as the danger was, I would have been
calm, and I think equal to the emergency. As it was, the
new and perilous condition of the patient, that demanded
prompt and intelligent action, paralysed me for several mo-
ments, and I only aroused to a full apprehension of the case
and its duties by seeing my patient begin to struggle for
breath as she inspired. Her face, which had been slightly
flushed, became deadly pale and distressed.
' To close the wound I had made, and stop the influx of air,
must be done immediately, or nothing could save her life.
Already sufficient air had entered to alter the condition of the
blood in the right cavities of the heart, and prevent its free
transmission to the lungs through the pulmonary arteries.
Life and death hung on every instant of time. I groped
blindly for the wound, and when I found it, failed, in my
terrible confusion, in a prompt application of pressure to the
exact point.
' Too late ! too late ! I cannot dwell on the particulars !
By the time I could close the fatal wound the destroyer^s
work was done. I opened, in my despair — clear-headed and
firm-handed enough now — the right jugular, and passing a
flexible tube into the auricle, tried by suction to empty the
heart of the air and blood which had been churned up there
into a spumous mass. But too much time had been lost, and
my patient was beyond the reach of human skill. She sank
rapidly, and in loss than half an hour the last feeble pulses
died.^
Dr. Grantley was strongly agitated. ' In pity for myself, I
drop a veil over what followed,^ he said, after sitting for a long
time like one in a dream. * Out from that agonising past I
have lifted this fearful thing, that it may stand as a lesson and
a warning. If I had been a drunkard, no such catastrophe
could have happened in my practice ; for men will not trust
a drunkard in any case where the issue is life or death. But
I was a respectable, trusted moderate drinker, able to take
my four or five glasses of wine without betraying the fact to
common observation ; and so, too frequently in a state that
unfitted me for the delicate and offcen dangerous operations I
was at any moment liable to be called on to perform.
' From that day to this no stimulating draught has passed
my Ups. If I am fanatical, as some have said, in the matter
of temperance, you have the explanation. And now, I re-
Selections.
169
assert what I said in the beginning, tliat society is hurt more
by moderate drinking than by drunkenness — ^yea, a thousand
fold more. Towards the drunkard we are ever on guard;
but we take the moderate drinker into our closest confidence,
and entrust him with our highest and dearest interests — and
all the while, through a weak self-indulgence, he is consoi'ting
with an enemy that enters when we open our doors to wel-
come him, and, in some unguarded and unsuspecting moment,
injures us, it may be, beyond repair ! ^ — Arthur's Home Maga-
zine.
SELECTIONS.
HYGERIA LODGE.
After eight hoars* ^travelling, wo
stopt before a largo handsome stone
building, enclosed with high walls, and
entered through iron gates into a broad
•▼enuo, shaded bj tall trees, rejoicing
in all their summer beauty. There was
a rookery near, for I distinctly heard
the cawing of the young ones, as it
Alternated with the deep mellow notes
of the thrush and linnet, poured forth
from their sylvan home in the branches
of the trees. Dr. Williams threw open
a window, and we stopt before the
front of Hygeria Lodge. The cool air
afforded momentary relief to my fevered
frame, and cooled my hot forehead. I
canght a paHsing glimpse of the many
sash windows, which seemed to multiply
themselves each time that I looked on
them; some pale white roses, with
clematis and Virginian creeper, were
artistically trained over them, and I
could just discern the leaves of a beauti-
ful grape vine, which shaded some
latticed windows at the end of the build-
ing. A parterre of flowers, and a broad
gravel walk ran round the house, the
former gay with stocks, carnations,
lilies, and other varieties of the sea-
ton. From a cluster of trees which
grew near, two women stepped for-
ward, and hastened to the carriage,
where they awaited the commands of
Dr. Williams, who with the Squire
had now alighted and stood by the
door. 'Fox and Vawse, take this
joung lady into No. 4, give her a cup
at tea and some dry biscuits. Keep her
still till I see you.' This behest was
listened to with profound respect,
and I instantly felt myself in the
grasp of these ofRcials, who evinced
mucn superfluous energy in their zeal
for my removal. As I slowly and pain-
fully tottered up the steps, my attendants
remarked to each other, that I was * a
tender one, and not good for much.
Decently rigged out too. Fox.' observed
the younger woman, eyeing me from
head to loot. ' Three' months,' said
the other significantly, *kill or cure,
there'll be some perkwisUs for some-
body.' • I don't say so,' retorted the
first, * it will perhaps boa tedious case ;
when folks goes crazed, there's no
saying, and if they're long of coming
round, then friends gets tired and stops
the brass.' * Anyhow there's some
good clothes amongst that luggage, or
my name ai'nt Liza Vawse.' * Just as
if I should not know best who am the
senior nurse, and been here three years
more n'er you, and was with 'em w?ien
Hygeria Lodge was first opened, and
brought master all the experienced ways
of the establishment I was at afore,
which was Dr. Dixie's, who, blessed
gentleman as he was, tolled me when he
was engaging me hisself, as his missus
was out, " You must be good to the
patients and treat them very humanely,
and if they want correcting, just put
them under one of the taps, and let the
water run on their heads till they come
round ; it won't liurt them if you don't
bruise ihem against the lead work ; and
170
Selections,
mind you don't make any yisihle marks,
or it may be a bit awkward for us
both." Did not I follow out his fer-
acription, and when the creatures turned
obstinate-like give them a good duck-
ing under water ? " There's nothing like
conquering them at first, Mrs. Fox,"
he used to observe, for he always spoke
more deferential like than our doctor.'
*I wonder if the gentleman's her father,*
said Vawse, without noticing the last
speech of her companion. 'Perhaps
he's her husband,' was the repfy,
•there's no accounting for young girls'
tastes now a days; come on, andliold
her up whilst I unlock the door.'
Saying this, she selected a key, from a
bunch tied to her apron, and put it in
the lock; the sound of that turning
therein still grates on my ears, and sends
an icy shiver to my heart when I recall
it
Prudent! matter of feet! often
too eager relations ; who consign to a
living death for months and years, those
whom God, or your sins, or even their
own, have smitten, sore, pause to con-
sider, ere you deposit your cherished
one in the sepulchre of a private mad-
house such as Hygeria Lodge, or to the
tending of heartless, ignorant, and
selfish women — the very reverse of the
high and beautiful ideal of St. Paul—
* Gentle, even as a nurse that cherisheth
her children,*
Weary and faint, I was at last dis-
robed of my travelling dress and laid
upon a small bed without curtains,
opposite to a window. A sense of
oppression and suffocation induced me
to ask for more air, and Pox went to
the window and threw it open about a
few inches. The air seemed scarcely to
circulate through the heavy iron stan-
chions, which seemed to strike from my
heart all sense of freedom and liberty.
I shuddered when Vawse left the room
for my tea, and I found myself alone
with the elder nurse. After folding my
clothes into a chest of drawers, and
taking a general survey, first of the room,
then of herself in the glass, she came to
me and asked me how I felt. As I was
trying to reply, she gave me a sudden
shake, as suddenly jerking my head
back on the pillow. ' How are you, I
say? It's no u.'*e a throwing off and
acting here, and so I'll assure you ; no
wonder your poor husband sent you
here ; you must have led him a dog's
life, poor fellow! with your lack-a-
daisi(»dy ladyfied ways. By the-by, you
had better take off your ring and give
it me, the doctor will want it to put
away.* Seeing I made no effort to
comply with this order, she came and
surveyed my hands. * Why, how comes
this?' She's no ring, Liza/ she ut-
tered, seeing that personage returning
with ray tea. * Did you thmk she had?
she looks too green for that Maybe
the gentleman's no good ! ' * That's
certain,' replied Fox. » Take the other
ring off, and never mind the gentleman;
we need not tell the doctor, and if she
don't get well, she'll never want it, and
we can go halves.' «Well, take care
of it, and look sharp, for he's a-coming
his rounds very soon.* Too weak for
resistance, I submitted patiently to the
abstraction of the ring, which was Mrs.
Moreland's dying bequest, and saw it
safely deposited in a piece of paper, and
then consigned to a leather purse which
Mrs. Fox drew from her enormous
pocket.
I had scarcely taken my tea when a
well-known step resounded through the
corridor, and uie doctor entered. He
stood, at the side of the bed viewing me
attentively for a few seconds, and, amng
for a pair of scissors, he ordered the
attendants to raise me and unfasten my
hair. Without any regard to the future
appearance of my tresses, he cut or rather
sheared it off at random, leaving only
a few locks upon my aching heavy head.
'How does she appear to settle, Fox?'
* Only very bad, sir — never speaking nor
saying nothing, nor giving likeapleasant
word to us nurses, as are doing all we can
to make her comfortable. She would not
cat at tea, not even the smallest bite of
biscuit.' * She must be forced in the
morning, if this obstinacy continues.*
'Certainly, sir.' *And I will send a
draught, which she must take at bed-
time. One of you can sit up with her :
you can order some extra porter and a
chop.' 'Thank you, sir. And the
young lady ? ' ' Needs nothing ; you
know I don't like our patients over-fed
at first* * Right enough, sir ; it makes
them too ohsfrepoloiis,* Dr. W. made no
reply to this judicious remark, but,
taking another survey of me walked
majestically out of the apartment. * He
never named the rin^, Liza ; it's just
like liim — he's a right gentleman.*
* Hold your tongue, fool — a still tongue
makes a wise head." * Who'll sit to-
night ? • "I will, so you can stop with
her while I go and see after something
for supper down in the kitchen; it's
Selections.
171
poor if I can^t find something goinj^ off
there better than mutton chops — besides,
I Bhall want a good salad, and some-
thing tasty beside. Don't give her the
night-draught till I come back.' * I
Suess that means getting her well soon,
on't it ? ' * Mind your own business,
and leave the doctor to mind his."
With this exhortation, Mrs. Fox left the
room, slamming the door after her in a
most unceremonious manner, leaving me,
pro tempore, to the care of the junior
nurse.
When morning dawns upon us in
sorrow and suffering, instead of bringing
with it a sense of relief, only renewed
and aggravated troubles seem borne
upon its wings, uttering their voices,
and awakening us to listen to their story
of misery. I had slept deeply^ but not
refreshingly : in my dreams I had been
carried into strange lands, climbed high
mountains, or gazed upon fearful preci-
pices— suffered all the anguish of the
traveller in the parched desert, and
passed through raging fires, or wild and
tamultuoos waters. My first sense of
consciousness commenced with the
sounds of a heavy-toned bell, which
aroused all the attendants, and shortly
after Yawse appeared to relieve the
other nurse. After clearing the tea
things, she ordered me to rise and pre-
bare for a bath, and glad to change the
scene, even for a short time, I rose and
suffered her to lead me to the bath room
at the end of the passage. It was well
fitted up, and a marble slab contained
six or more basins, with taps and plugs
to ran off the water. A lady accosted
me as I entered* with the manner that
bespeaks high and refined breeding, and
courtoQsly wished me 'Good morning.'
She was just returning from her morn-
ing ablations, habited in an elegant
wrapper. I reooUect her mild blue eyes,
and the compassionate look she cast on
me. 'Poor young thing.' she bpgan,
in gentle tones, * you seem very ill and
weak ; let me assist you.* Ah she said
this, her eye rested on the crimeon scar
left br the recent blister, which con-
tinued in a state of fearful irritation.
' Ah ! and they've been tormenting you,
I see, with their horrible remedies,
which are always worse than the disease.'
Look, my dear, at my head; but the
doctor cannot alter tliat. Saying this,
she flung back some glossy curls of
beautiful golden hair, and I saw a large
protuberance which, she told me, was a
tumouTf and one cause of her present
illness. I tried to utter a few words of
condolence, but she stopt me, and began
to tell me that her husband was comm?
to see her in the course of the day, and
that she ordered him to bring her a
clothes basket full of oranges, in the car-
riage with him ; and then she assured
me I should have some, as they would cool
me, and prove very beneficial. After en-
quiring my name, she turned to the nurse,
and said coaxingly, *Now, Vawie, you
must be very tender over Miss Etchell,
for she is very fragile, and needs all con-
sideration.' 'I wish you would not
interfere with my business, Mrs. Ben-
shaw, you are always so officious ; its a
poor thing if I can't bath a patient
without your putting' in of vour word.'
The lady thus rebuked, walked off, and
after I had undergone an ordeal of
splashing, scrubbing, and friction,* such
as house maids usually bestow upon a
mahogany table, I was dragged back to
my room, and placed in bed to await my
breakfast, and the further orders of the
doctor. This first meal was brought bv a
young and pretty dark-eyed girl, called
Ada, who spoke kindly, and, seeing how
exhausted I was after my recent exertion,
held the cup in her hand, whilst I drank
the contents. Seeing I refused to eat,
she broke off a morsel of bread and but-
ter, and said, ' Do try to take a little
bit ; only a little, or I shall be obliged
to report you as refusing food, and then
you'll be forced.* I strove to yield to
her request, but I was too weak to take
solid food, and felt as if I was choked.
< It is a pity/ she observed vrith much
concern, 'You must have something
got that you can fancy, or you'll be
starved. 'Perhaps, Mrs. Vawse ' — 'I'll
thank you to keep your advice to your-
self, and that's plenty for you,* in-
terupted that personage, turning hastily
from the window, where with arms
a kimbo she had been gazing out for
time. 'I don't know whether
some
* I must not forffct to notice here, a most
reprehensible practice, common alike to
public and private asylums. I refer to the
u»e of a whaTo-l>oiie brush, for the purpose of
cleansiDS the hair of the patient whilst in the
bath. Ah this proctM« is usually performed by
no light liaud, ita pffccts upon one of nervous
temperament and sensitive skin, may be caiiil}'^
imai^ined. For forty-eight liours after its
iiso. I liave been in a terrible state, and ex-
perienced the Fame seuwitioiis a^ would result
from a blister, or ver>' strong mustard plaster.
Can such an irritant be used, unless with a
view of increasing the worst symptoms of the
malady\? I leave the reader to judge from
his own common aensc.
172
Selections.
you're softest or aretnest. Miss Turner.*
The young girl looked pitifully at me,
and seeing Yawse leave tlie room,
whispered coaxingly, * Never mind her,
you'll be better soon, and then you will
M removed to the front dormitory, and
will only have the doctor's lady to look
in occasionally ; not often, I assure you,
for she does not like trouble, and has
besides a large family.' Half-past ten
brought Dr. Williams and three satel-
lites, in the form of consulting physi-
cians, who whispered mysteriously toge-
ther, after they nad looked at mo, and I
heard one of them say, that < it was a
bad case.' I soon after lost all conscious-
ness, and the next time that I was able
to notice any thing I found myself in a
little room, nearly darkened. A faint
glimmer of light from a crevice in the
window shutter made the furniture of
the apartment just visible; an iron
bedstead, a chair and small table ; there
was no carpet on the floor, and the heavy
door was closed and fast. Not a sound
reached my ear through the thick walls,
still my first emotion was not un pleasing,
for I was alone, and for a time at least
freed from the officious offices of my
tormentors. All my joints and limbs
ached, and my hands and wrists were
black with bruises, given, as I inferred,
in some unconscious struggle between
myself and the nurses. My aching
head felt like a ball of fire, and intoler-
able thirst made me eagerly swallow
some medicine placed in a glass at my
side. I had no idea of the hour of the
day; it might be morning, noon or
evening ; I knew not, but I longed in-
tensely to be let alone, and left to die
quietly. But it was decreed otherwise,
and I was permitted after ten long years
of misery, mingled with some bright
rainbows of mercy, to come forth
'clothed and in my right mind,' to tes-
tify, from personal experience and daily
oliservation, to a necessity of a thorough
reform in the whole system of the treat-
ment of lunatics, ana primarily to the
fearful abuses existing in many of our
private asylums, for which the insuffi-
cient palliations usually urged are utterly
worthless.
In many of these institutions the
whole machinery is defective, if not
altogether wrong. True the doctor of
the private asylum depends mainly on
his success for his good repute, and
hence from him may have originated
many improvements made of late years
in the treatment of the insane. Yet ho
is to a great extent in the hands of his
dependents, and I do not hesitate to
say, that until moral excellence and
intellectual perceptions are made indis-
Sensable qualifications for those who
esire those onerous and responsible
posts, no great reformation can bo ex-
pected. The advantAo;es of the hosnital
system of nursing, when performea by
ladies of edttcatioti and refinement, has
been clearly proved, and Uie name of
Florence Nigntingale is associated in
our imaginations with all that is self-
sacrificing, high, and noble, as we read
of her true and womanly discharge of
her self-imposed mission of mercy. Per-
haps future years will bring nurses pro-
perly trained and initiated in those
higher mysteries of their profession —
love, gentleness, and forbearance — to
soperMde the present race, who are too
often cruel, cunning, and selfish, irri-
tating and exoidng their charges till
they are driven hopelessly mad for the
residue of their lives, and most of this
mischief achieved, unknown, and un-
detected. For what is the testimony of
the poor, bruised, beaten, insane creature
worth, who will be visited next day with
three-fold vengeance, if pain has urged
her to speak of her treatment to higner
authorities, taken against the assurance
of the delinquent, who with a pleasant
smile assures the doctor that ' the lady
did it heraeffy if he chances to ask what
is the meaning of the black mark, too
palpable on the face, neek, or arms.
But to return to my narrative. A
creaking of the key taming in the lock
warned me of a visitor, who soon ap-
peared in the person of Yawse. I sup-
pose some cause of altercation had
arisen between her and Fox, for as she
opened the door I heard her pouring
forth a charge of invectiyes against her,
and declaring one of them should leave
the place. Ascertaining that I was
awake, she gave me some beef tea, and
then arranged my toilette, telling me
to keep my hands under the bed-clothes,
and on no account to let the doctor see
them, or it might be worse for me. That
functionary soon appeared, with a small
phial in liis hana and a stathescope,
which, after applying to my chest and
side for a minute or two, seemed to in-
duce his subsequent observations. *' No
actual disease of the chest or lungs, but
great weakness in those organs, and
considerable gastric derangemenf. I^t
me see, nurse, how long has she been in
this room T * Three days, sir, at six
Selections.
173
o*clook.' * Very good, it only wants a
qoarter now ; remove her back to No. 4,
and gire her some barley water fre-
quenSy.' Accordingly, I was assisted
by the two mines to my own room, and
once more saw the bright light of the
sun, and felt the air of heaven ! — Ten
Years in a Lunatic Asylum: hy Mahel
EtchcU,
THE COLD BATH IN THE ASYLUM
The doctor of H^gcria Lodge was
■entially deficient m moral qualities,
aofiiering a cool intellectual head to
usurp Uie place of a warm sensitive
heart ; consequently he failed in the
enforcement of his authority, and un-
limited as it was, it carried with it none
of that weight which ensures prompt and
willing obcnience to the good and revered
liasier. Nurses fulfilled bis commands
because they knew they must^ and added
to their delegated power as much super-
fluoQS tyranny as they thousht fit. By
way of illustration I record tiie following
details: — One morning, Mrs. Kensbaw
had displeased Fox, bjr declining to do
a little piece of embroidery for that per-
■onage; some altercation ensued, and
the nurse bestowed many angry epithets
upon her patient, threatening to be even
with her before the day was out. The
lady, who was amusing herself by filling
a handsome china jar with scent, per-
sisted in her refusal ,* so Fox, regardless
of a fundamental principle, which formed
a frequently broKen rule at this asylum,
began to irritate Mrs. Bcnshaw, and
finally tried to get the jar from her. A
struggle ensued, and in a few seconds,
the porcelain was shivered to pieces on
the floor. The enraged attendant struck
her victim a heavy blow ui>on the head,
which was speedily returned, and a fight
ensued. Just then the doctor's foot was
heard, and in her haste to calm the
tumult she had raised, Fox struck
against the door, and a stream of blood
flowed from her nose. Dr. W., who
bad now entered, sternly enquired the
cause of the scene before him ; the cow-
ardly nurse, who had managed to pro-
duce a few tears, and appeared to bo
writhing with pain, imnicciiately stated
that Mrs. Benshaw had fallen foul upon
her and struck her. The brave woman
stood by, with a flushed countenance,
and proudly disdained an explanation.
Hflc innate quickness told her that truth
was not respected by either master or
serrant The doctor looked round, as
if to ask * Who were the witnesses of
this scene.' The two who could have
spoken were absent and I ventured to
say, ' It was Fox who struck the first
blow.' Never shall I forget that
woman's face, as I turned a fearless
eye upon her, and thus confronted her
falsehood. But she stifled the rising
storm with great presence of mind, and
simply remarked, in that cool, insulting
strain, wliich is more difficult to bear
than open injury, ' Miss Etchell is not
so well to-day, sir ; has been much ex-
cited, and had a great many delusions.'
* Let her have a shower bath at bed-
time, and give Mrs. Renshaw a cold
bath at the same time.' There was a
cold, satirical smile upon his lips, and
his never-to-be-forgotten eye rested on
mine for a moment as ho completed his
order. * Cold-blooded vn-etch,' said
Ellen Kaymond, when on her return I
recounted my temerity and its punish-
ment, * I wish I had been in the room,
I would have made him hear the truth ;
but never mind, Mabel dear, as the poet
says —
** The mills of God grind slowly, but they
grind exceeding small."
There's a fearful reckoning day for him
looming in the distant horizon.'
Perhaps some who peruse these
pages may say, 'A little cold water is
not such a great thing after all,' and
the doctor could only know what he
was told, nor is it wonderful that the
te«itimony of a nurse is taken before
that of a patient. Let all who entertain
these notions follow me through my
description of the mode in which these
punishments are administered ; and
bear in mind, that the great principles
of justice and truth wore sacrificed by
thc>80 who were entrusted with power ;
and a sense of cruel wrong burnt upon
tlje hearts of both of us, who were cer-
tainly, if so far responsible as to bear
punishment, at least to be heard and
considered in evidence of any passing
event. From a child I have been so ac-
customed to cold water, that from the
174
Selections,
time when Kebekah duly immersed me
momiDg and evening in my nursery
bath, to the time I entered Hygeria
Ixxige, and underwent the first scrub-
bing process, I had ever felt a pleasur-
able sensation in frequent use of the
inexpensive luxury; but I had found
this treatment, simple as it was in itself,
made into a frightful instrument of
terror and torture to the patients. Our
bath-room was situated at the end of
the passage, and as eight o'clock drew
near, Fox, with a malevolent grin on
her face, whispered to the other nurse,
and then told Mrs. Kenshaw to pre-
pare for her bath. *You may come
too, Miss Etchell, seeing's believ-
ing, I lieard you say this morning.'
We all four left the room, and Fox set
the bath on with the oold water tap.
Mrs. Kenshaw fastened her beautiful
hair tightly with a band, and undressed
for the bath. After the first shock she
appeared to enjoy the position and I
was thinking it was not very dreadful
after all when at a signal from Fox,
the other woman approached, and seiz-
ing the small white arms in their
Titan gripe, they held her under the
water for a minute or two. At first
she struggled, and Fox ordered me to
fill a ewer with water and pour it over
her head every time it came to the sur-
face. My blood boiled, fierce passion
lent me resolution and energy. * I will
not,' I said, *the doctor is a cruel
wretch, and I will inform against him.'
Trembling with rage, she reiterated her
command, but i stood motionless.
Again she shrieked forth her brutal
order, bub this time a fearful oath
accompanied it. She filled the ewer
and dashed it upon the head of her
victim, repeating it many times; till
horror-stricken and fearful, and with
the remembrance of the poor blind
creature, whose sight the wretch had
taken in a similar way, vividly im-
printed on my mental vision, I cried
out, *You will kill her. For God's
sake leave off.' Another dash, and then
I said, ' Put another drop on, and I
will tell Miss Atherton when I go that
you blinded Mrs. . I heard you
Bay so yourself; yon are a cruel woman ;
chaining, whipping, and torturing are
no worse than mis.' My sentence
remained unfinished, for she desisted
from her infernal occupation, and
dashed the contents of the pitcher over
my head and face, and when I recovered
I saw Mrs. Kenshaw pale, and almost
breathless, trembling before mo. A
sheet was thrown over her, and she was
conducted to her bedroom, whilst I
stood uncertain as to what would be
inflicted on me. Shortlv, the women
returned with Tilly, who, folding a
towel small enough for ligature, tied
my arms together, whilst the other two
held me ; then my ancles in the same
manner, and raising me from the floor,
where they had thrown me, plunged me
heavily into the bath, striking my head
violently against the sides of it How
long I remained under the water I can-
not tell, for I lost consciouffliess, and
was first made sensible by being dragged
down the passage, at the other end of
which was the shower bath. Smarting
and bruised, I was placed under it and
locked in, the water pouring over me,
till I was again quite exhausted ; for I
was in a very delicate state of health at
the time, and my nerves were com-
pletely shattered. I took a violent cold,
which terminated in a fever, and when I
vras again able to leave my bed, I learned
that Mrs. Kenshaw was no more ; never
probably having recovered from the shock
given her on the night the bath was ad-
ministered, though she lived some weeks
afterwards. Her body was removed by
her own family, who had no suspicion
of the tragic scene which had been
enacted. Our readers will doubtless
inquire, should such a mighty agency
for good or evil be entrusted to the
caprices of vindictive, ignorant women,
who make it an opportunity for venting
their ill-humour and spleen upon help-
less nervous victims? Undoubtedly •
not ! Yet this was the principle acted
upon in the management of tne insane
in a private asylum in England in the
nineteenth century. — Ten Years in a
Lunatic Asylum : by Mabel ECchelL
Selections.
175
THE PADDED ROOM.
When I recoTered, I found mTfielf
in a room padded round, and quite dark,
ezoepting as it was partially lighted from
the top by a kind of aperture ; glazed
indeed, but not of sufficient consequence
to be called a window. It felt very hot
and close, though the only furniture in
it was a mattress upon the floor, and the
bed clothes. I could hear sounds from
the nearest corridor, and the garden bell
ringing, with the voice of the presiding
nurse, 'Ladies all in!' I had taken
nothing but the glass of wine since
morning, and was hungry and exhausted
for want of nutriment, ^e clock tolled
out the hour of six, and I heard steps
in the passage. I heard the door un-
loeked, and two women entered, whose
faces were strange to me. The taller,
a large woman, with great eyes and a
powerful frame, had in her hands a kind
of night draas made of strong ticking,
and a leather strap. Advancing towards
me, ahe bade me undress, and finding
that I was too stupified and frightened
to render prompt obedience, she seized
aie^ and naving divested me of my
clothes, put on the ticking, which she
laoed tightly on me, proceeding to
£uten my hands with the strap. She
then pushed me into bed, motioning to
her companion for the medicine glass in
her hand. 'Hold her down tight,
Fanny, whilst I give her it.' The girl
obeyed, kneeling on my body with one
knee^ and so compressed was my chesty
that I found it mipoBsible to swallow,
whidi the women perceived, and began
to mb my throat till I gurgled, and was
almost suffocated. A slice of bread and
•ome tea was next administered, and
then they left me for a little season. At
•eren Dr. Williams came, accompanied
by a stout man, with enormous head and
Uoated face ; a flannel coat, and white
apron. I am sure the doctor must have
•een the look of horror and disgust with
whidi I eyed him, as he gave his bar-
barous orders, in his own peculiar man-
ner. That he was in eollusion with
Mr. Moreland I know well, nor could
I misinterpret the low yet clover cun-
ning that characterised the discharge of
his professional duties. ' Mr. Jones, you
can proceed to business, this lady has
had a severe attack on the brain ; share
her head as quickly at possible, and I
will go and prepare a blister.' As he
closed the door, I heard him tell my
new attendant, whom he called Mrs.
Basfield, to make mustard plaisters for
my feet, and to keep them on twenty
minutes.
Words are powerless to depict the
horrors of that night; all my former
troubles seemed lost in one unutterable
sea of misery. Intolerable pain from
the large blister which covered my head,
and the stinging sensation of the mus-
tard at my feet, were but part of my
sufferings. Visions of the ola confessors
and martyrs of the rack, tortured by
inquisitorial judges, seemed more toler-
able than my present condition; for
they endured for a speedy and certain
recompense, and for the joy set before
them, * despised the shame ' of their
heavy cross, whilst I bad lost my
compass, and was foundering on the
breaKera, with the roar of u tumultuous,
unfathomcd ocean in my ears. My cup
seemed to overflow with sorrows, but it
was not yet full. A wine glass full of
white liquid was forced down my throat ;
then my frenzy began. In my wild and
awful delirium, I knew notliing, but
that I was intensely miserable, the
weight of the world seemed fallen upon
my devoted head ; a burning fever shot
like lightning through my veins, and
for three months, I alternated between
paroxysms of a conscious madness, and
the reaction therefrom, producing pros-
trations of the body, wliich left me weak
as a new-born infant — Ten Years in a
Lunatic Asylum : by Mabel EtcheU.
THE EVE OF ST. MARK.
In the north of England there is a
ffTMt deal of snperstition attached to
tnia night, and many devoutly believe
thftt tM ghosts of all who have died
in the previooB year walk in solemn
procession at the midnight hour, and
that afterwards their cofiins pass the
church porch. This eve falls on the
24th of April. It so chanced, to the
parish church of the village in which
176
Selections,
Mary lived were two roads, one the
public road, the other a bye-path across
some fields. Mary and her good man
had not lived on the best of terms, and
it seems that each, without knowing the
intention of the other, resolved to ^ to
church to see if the ghost of either
would appear. After tea the husband
went out of the house for the ostensible
purpose of foddering the cattle. Mary,
as soon as his back waa turned, put on
her shawl and bonnet and went out on
a pretended visit to a neighbour. It
was a moonlight night, but the moon
was obscured by the jphssins clouds.
As soon as John had finished tending
the cattle, half ashamed of his errand,
he made his way across the fields to
the churchyard. Mary arrived at the
church-yard gate just as her husband
reached the stile to it from the fields.
Silently and quietly they both, unknown
to the other, went into the porch. They
reached it, and just then the moon shone
out for a few minutes clear and full
into the faces of both. They gazed at
each other a long steady look, and then
the moon*s light was hidden beneath a
cloud. When it again shone out the
porch was empty. Both silently re-
turned home, thinking they had seen
one another's ghost Now, as Mary
confessed to me, she and her good man
quarrelled so that scarcely a meal ever
passed by without a squabble about
Home unimportant trifle. Each had the
same likings, and each resolved to gratify
them at the expense of the other. Their
lives became grievous and burdensome,
both to themselves and all connected
with them, and they had positively
grown to dislike each other heartily.
When John got back to his cottage
Mary was by the bright fire sewing.
Some roasted potatoes and grilled ham,
liis favourite supper, were m readiness
for him. Both sat down and ate in
silence, John all the time wondering
at the unwonted attention paid to him.
After esch had been fairly helped, one
slice of ham remained on the dish,
which to Mary's astonishment, John
quietly laid upon her plate without a
word. As quietly she removed it back
to his, whilst the servant looked on,
astonished at the unusual courtesy mani-
fested by both parties. Again and agai^i
the same thing was enacted, each at-
tempting to force it upon the other.
The same feeling actuated both ; each
thought the other doomed ere lonff to
death, and felt for the short time tney
had left to be together they could afibrd
to be kind to each other. ' Ah ! well.*
thought John, as he crept up the little
staircase that night to bed, ' I wonder
when she will go ; how soon or late in
the year. Won't the house be quiet
without her ? Well, Til be kind to her,
and bear with her for the short time she
has to live, so that my conscience won't
reproach me when she's gone.' Mary's
thoughts wore much the same. And so
week after week, and month after month,
passed over, each giving a little and
taking a little, bearing and forbearing
with each other, till St. Mark's eve
again came very near. One wild
stormy March night, as both were
seated over the fire, Mary spinning
and John smoking, his thoughts went
wandering over the past year, and again
to the future. And as he sat and
smoked, he felt sad, *For after all,'
thought he, * she has been a good wife
to me the last ten months. No doubt
death has cast his softening shadow over
her, and she feels changed by it' Still
it puzzled him, for she sat there looking
so well and healthy. *It will be
sudden; ought not I to tell her what
I know, and warn her to prepare for
it? T will.' He got ready to speak.
* John,' said Mary, suddenly, * I should
miss you very much if you were to leave
me.' He started, and jumped off his
chair, for had he not the very same
thoughts of her ? ' Dear me, Maxr, how
you startled me. I was just thinkm^ the
same of you.* * Were vou ? ' rejoined
Mary. * All ! well, I shall be sorry when
you go.' * I go, Mary I it's your turn first
my lass, I am after thinking.' * I do not
think so,' she replied, ' I know you've to
go soon, 80 I thought Fd tell you.' * Why
do you think so?' 'Because I saw
your ghost walk on St Mark's Eve,' said
Mary. 'And I saw thine,' answered John.
'Humph ! You were there then, John?'
' I was, Mary ; and it seems thou too ! '
They were both silent a short time ; and
Mary sat spinning, and John smoked
and thought. 'Dang it all, Mary,'
said John, 'We've oeen uncommon
happy this past year, why should it not
be so to the last, eh? Thou'lt gie a
little; and we'll try and hand on so for
the future.' And to the end they tried
to do so, and a happier life was the
result So, after seven years of married
experience, the last five being mutual
help and assistance, both were pros*
perous and satisfied. — Ten Years in a
Jjunatio Asylum: by Mabel Etckell.
Selections.
177
A HINT FOR IDLE LADIES.
Miss Boucherett, residing in Lin-
eobuhire, happening to meet with Mrs.
Archer's pamphlet, obtained pennission
to try the plan from the guardians of
her own anion, some of whom had long
been dissatisfied with the results of
workhouse training for girls. We quote
the following account of her experiment,
addressed to the Editor of the English'
woman's Seview, ' In reply to your in-
quiries respecting my orphans, I beg to
mj that it is just throe years and a naif
since I took out the two first. They
were already fourteen and twelve years
of age, so I had but a bad chance of
doing them much good. Their habits
and persons were extremely dirty ; yet
I do not believe our workhouse to be
worse than the average. These two
girls have now been earning their bread
as servants; the eldest for two years
■ad a half, the younger one for nearly
two years; both, so far, are well con-
ducted, though the youngest is a foolish,
thoughtless creature.
* I have, in these three years and a
half, taken out altogether eleven girls
and one boy ; the four eldest are doing
well in service. A fifth proved totally
Dnmanageable, committed a theft, and
has been sent to a school reformatory,
imder sentence for five years. I hear
die is doing exceedingly well, and is
likely to be a reformed character. She
was as complete a savage, when first
taken out of the workhouse, as an
African firom Lske N*yanza. The rest
are still children, living with their
foster-parents.
* The elder ones have not, in all cases,
attde such friends with their foster-
parents as will enable them to return to
them if out of place ; but I think it
will prove difibrent with the yoimger
ones. I now take them out under ten
years of age, and should prefer them
■t • much earlier age; but it would
be very difficult to find homes for them
under eight or nine. It does not
answer to place orphans with a low-
elass of persons, even if kindly dis-
posed ana humane. To make good
servants, they must be under the veiy
hut daas of poor.
'1 have seen the physically low
type of these children much commented
on, and described as if th^ were here-
ditnily inferior, and a distinct class
from other poor. I have had such a
Vol, 11.— ^b. 42. M
case of disease among my girls. The
appearanceti were entirely removed in
about eighteen months, by an unlimited
allowance of bacon, milk, cheese, and
bread and butter, with some beer, and
two shillings worth a week of butcher's
moat. The old woman, who acted as
foster-mother to the child, said she ato
as much bacon as a grown man, besides
the buteher'8 meat. I am quite con-
vinced that it is the miserable gruel,
the i Uncooked food, and the long fasts
between meals, which fill those wretched
children with disease.
*My firb are all fat and rosy
now, and I hope that almost all will
turn out respectable. It will perhaps
be thought that for one of the five first
taken to turn out ill is a largo propor-
tion of failure ; but the year before I
began to take the girls, three out of five
returned disgraced to the workhouse
after their first year of service. I con-
sider, however, that in the present state
of the law respecting the morals of the
poor, it is certain that -a considerable
percentage even of the be!>t brought up
girls will turn out ill. Women of the
middle classes live under diflTorcnt laws ;
and are protectei by the law, which
servant girls are not Still, good
training and principles will save many,
who left in the workhouse must surely
fall.
* When I send a child into a parish
which is beyond my own supervision,
the wife of the clergyman looks after
it, sees that the child goes to school
three or four days a woek in the after-
noon, and lets me know if it is ill or
wants anjthin|[. The children do not
go to school m the morning. They
ave got plenty of book-learning in tho
workhouse ; and what they want to
learn is household work, which is done
by helping their foster-mother in her
domestic imairs ; but, by going to school
in the afternoons, they keep up their
book knowledge, and improve in needle-
work.
* The allowance given by the guar-
dians to the foster-mother is two sliil-
lings and ninepence a week, the same
that it would cost to keep the child in
the workhouse. Thirty-five shillings is
given for an outfit when they come fo
me, — nothing when they leave. I try
to fit them for service at thirteen years
of age, — ^not sooner, even if fit to go^
178
Selections.
tLB it would not be fair on the woman
who had trained them to take them
away the moment they become of real
use. If I did so I could not find
homes so easily. This is no injustice
to the ratepayers, as they would often
remain in the workhouse till fourteen
or fifteen, and return afterwards.
'Last Summer the guardians re-
solved, " That outnioor relief should be
always given, when possible, to women
and children." This resolution is my
greatest triumph, because it shows the
conviction of the guardians that the
workhouse is necessarily a place of cor-
ruption, which is the truth.
'When I sent the first girls out to
service, I gave them plenty of good
clothes. There cannot be greater folly.
They should have only bare necessaries ;
and should feel that they must work to
get more. The foster-mothers ought to
to be very kind people, but it does not
answer to get a very kind Jirst mistress,
or the girls are lazy. Firm, strict mis-
tresses are the best at first ; but they
must be watched to eee that no real
cruelty or dreadful over-work is in-
flicted.
*This is the most deh'ghtful and
least costly* mode of doing goodL With
care and attention I believe success to
be certain; and the change in the poor
little tilings' looks, and manners, and
ways, is really pleasant. They ore so
happy and pleased, so healthy and rosy;
and their letters afterwards say much
for the health of their hearts and minds.
iNothing makes me so happy as riding
about to visit my children. It is a com-
plete recipe for happiness.
*You will perhaps like to see a
letter from one of the orphans to her
foster-mother.
* Tours faithfully,
• L. JB.'
« November, 1666.'
The letter referred to wo give ver-
batim. The writer is a girl of seven-
teen, wlio has been two years in service.
• My dear Friend, —
' I received your kind and welcome
letter on Wednesday morning all safe.
I was very much pleased to hear from
• • The ccBt of clothiiijr each girl is about
£1 69. a year to me. Perhaps \i ith jouruej's
and othi^r extras, h'x girls cost me ilOaAeSlr
altogetlit-r. Ihe l^o ixjiindt of buicllci's
meat a week for ihedi>catcd child, 1 paid for
myiclf. It is the only iu>tance in wliicli I
have givoD snythiDglurtxtra food.*
you. I thought perhaps you had lost
my address, and I did not know bat
what you knew I was at Mr. 8.'s. It
did not enter my head you had for-
gotten me. I should very much like
to have seen C and M when
they were at home, but it was not to be
this time ; but I hope we shall all meet
again at May-day next.
* You said in your letter that Miss
B. had been kind enough to inquire
what wages I had. I have £6 a year.
When you see Miss B. thank her kmd^
for the kindness she has done for me ;
but for the benevolence of such a lady
I should have been in workhouse yet.
' I am very sorry to hear your little
girl is so ill) but I hope she will be
better the next time you write. Gire
my love to all inquiring friends.
* I remain,
' Your affectionate daughter,
'M. 0.'
*F.S. — Excuse me for usine such
an expression as daughter, but I think
I was brought up as your own child.
Excuse my mistaKCs as I am in great
hurry. I have got to be nurs^iaid
now. *
Miss Boucherett-, like Mrs. Archer, is
impressed with the importance of ob-
taining the co-operation and sympathy
of the ]ionest poor for these forlorn
little creatures ; and, partly from tliis
motive, partly to benefit by their prac-
tical experience, she often seeks their
advice in making her arrangements.
She one day applied to a woman, who
was busy at her wash-tub, for counsel
respecting the outfit suitable for the
orpiians when going to service. She
gave very sensible advice, but without
stopping a moment in her operations,
and with so little courtesy of manner
that her interlocutor felt tempted to
curtail her questionins. She remained,
however, until she had obtained the in-
formation she wanted; ^then, as she
turned to depart, the woman paused in
her work, and said, with her hands
clasped in the suds, ' The Lord prosper
you, and bless the poor lasses I '
Miss Boucherett has adopted the
following mode, in applying for orphans
to the guardians, ilaving selected a
child, and found for it a home, she in-
forms the relieving officer of its namCi
and gives the name of the woman with
*The Englishuoman*s Hevieto, Januaiy*
1867. Loudon t id. Great Marlkoronah
Btnkt
Selections.
179
whom it is to board, and of the parish in
whtdi she lives ^stating, also, that tho
woman it known to be respectable, to
the guardian for that parish. She re-
qoeats the reliering officer to state tliese
faofcs at the next Board meeting, and
her desire to be allowed to remove the
dnid from the workliouse ; and, leave
Mng granted, she takes the foster-
nother there to fetch the child. Before
oonunanicating with the relieving officer
die aees or writes to the guardian in
wboie puish the child will be pUced,
infonning him of her arrangement, and
asking him to attend the board and
support her application. Annaallj, she
Bonus to tlie board a report on eaoh
child under her care.
Twenty-five children have been thus
taken out of the workhouse bj Miss
Boucherett since she began her benevo-
lent work; and it is satisfactory to
know that as the operation of the plan
becomes better understood, the number
of suitable applicants for the care of
the young p&op\e increases. — Children
of the attUe, by Florence Hill.
SQUALOBS* MARKET.
ExmcUy opposite each other stand a
dmrch and a gin-palace. The former
it dedicated to St. Luke, the latter to his
hmd merely, and stands sentinel at the
eoraer of &[ualor8' Market Just as it
waa growing dusk, and the potman per-
taining to Uie palace was kindling the
Ergeous outside lamp?, I passed under
I tall ladder and into the narrow and
•inuous thoroughfare.
The business of the evening was yet
joang. The naptha man's white horse,
nameated in the evil-smelling cart, was
atiU in the high way, and the naptha
man, carrying liis hi? can and clinking
hia measures, had still a goodi^h many
■taU-keepera to serve ; the eecondhund
dkoeaeller was busily arranging along the
karb^and in single file, his dissipated regi-
meat of 'Wellingtons' and 'bluchers,'
administering a Uttle more blacking to
thia one to make its patches seem less
patchy, and solicitously patting and
ewKung that whose constitution was po
iatally undermined that, for all its
Uooming appearance, it would succumb
before a day^ wear, and part body and
ible; the Hebrew who sold cloth caps
wad ilippon waa idly chatting with the
Hebrew who, having nicely arranged his
brummagem jewellery, had nothing cltie
(but cuatomers) to do ; the * unfortunato
miner' was, with bis afflicted wife, par-
feksng of a final whet of rum at the
*BIad[ Boy' before taking their stand,
their five sleekly-combed but starving
children for the present larking in the
gutter, while from out the horrible
eonrta and alleys — head-quarters of
tent and pestilence — came pouring
•torea of cabbages and turnips,
and fruit and shell-fish — the latter look-
ing none the more refreshed for their
night's repose beneath the truckle bed-
st«td, and the former yet tearful from
their long soaking in grimy tubs in the
cellar. Besides these, there likewise
streamed out from tho courts and alleys
•trotters' and hot penny pudding?,
and * ham sandwiches,' for the delight
of the most dainty of the thousand, who
would presently crowd every inch of
road and footway.
Of tho two hundred and twenty
houses of which Squalors' Market is
composed, one in ever if thirteen is de-
votod t'j the sale of intoxicating liquors,
iind it must be borne in mind that in
this calculation are not included several
public houses that, skulking in crooked
chinks and under dark archways^
although deprived of the manifest ad-
vantages enjoyed by their seventeen
brethren in the open highway, yet by
means of a beckoning claw in shape of
a signboard, affixed at the mouth of tho
court or alley, *To the George and
Dragon,' 'Back way to the Chip in
Porridge,' &a, manase to trap manj
drinkers of the sly and sneaking sort.
That bread even is less in demand
in Squalors' Market than gin and beer
is demonstrated by the fact that but ten
bakers' shops can there find support.
The catsmcat interest is liberally repre-
sented, no less than five establishments
of that character flourisliing in tho mar-
ket How is this? Do the squalid
court and alley dwellers, with their pro-
verbial extravagance, each keep a cat ?
or . No; the supposition is too
dreadful. Besides, it should be fairly
180
Selections,
stated that the five hone-fleflh dealers
Tend sheep's heads, split and baked,
and the livers of bullocks, and other
offal.
The butchers of Squalors* Market
number two less than Uie gin and beer
sellers, and are, dear reader, by no
means quiet, well-behaved creatures,
such as you are acquainted with. Your
butcher wears a hat, generally a genteel
hat, and a blue coat, and a respectable
apron ; perhaps, even snowy sleeves and
shiny boots, and a nice bit of linen collar
above his neckerchief. You give your
orders and he receives them decorously,
and winhes you good morning as you
quit his neatly-arranged and sawdusted
shop. Contrasted with him tlio butcher
of Squalors' Market is a madman — a
raving lunatic. He unscrews the burners
of his gaspipes, and creates great spouts
of flame that roar and waver in the wind
in front of his shamble-like premises,
endangering the hats of short pedestrians
and the whiskers of tall ones ; far out
from his shop, and attached to roasting
jocks, revolve monstrous pigs' heads and
big joints of yellow veal, spiked all over
like a porcupine with ngure-bearing
tickets, that announce the few pence per
pound for which the meat may be
oought. He wears on his head a cap
made of the hairy hide of the bison or
some other savage beast ; his red arms
are bare to the elbows, and he roars
continuously, 'Hi-hi! weigh away —
weigh away ! the rosy meat at three-and-
half! Hi-hi!' — clashing his broad
knife against his steel to keep time.
How is it that my butcher is charging
me 9d. per lb. for leg of mutton, wnile
Mr. Bloiam, here, is charging only 4M. ?
Is my butcher a rogue, or is Mr. Bloiam
going headlong to the debtors' prison at
the end of his street? I know my
butcher to be an honest fellow, and to
judge from appearances, Mr. B. is not
the man to bring his sleek, redhanded
wife and his glossy children to grief,
either by reckless trading or excessive
charity.' This being the case, let the
court and alley dwellers thereabout,
rather than regret, rejoice and thank
their lucky stars that they have no
money wherewith to trade with Mr.
Bloiam.
The business of the market erows
with the night. First come the decent
folk — men and their wives, with the
chief olive-branch to cany the big
basket. Shrewd people are these earlr
birds with an eye to plump worms, it
is not, however, till it has grown quifea
dark, and the gas is lit, and great
tongues of naptha flame start from oraij
lamps, and scorch and lap up the living
air greedily, that the buyers oome shoal-
ing in. Then the fruit and vegetaUd
mongers ffive tongue, and roar the
quality and price of their various want
with a bullying air ; and the brummaKam
Hebrew jabbers of his rings and broochea ;
and the secondhand shoeman, having
beguiled a gentleman to take off his
boot and * try something on,' keeps him
standing on one leg in the mud (and so
ho will be kept till he consents to bay a
pair of shoes) ; and the miner and nia
family, ranged in a row, chant their
necessities.
Strolling through the market out of
market hours the dearth of fishmongert
at once struck you. True^ there are
fishshops, five or six of them, bat die
dealings of the proprietors are almost
entirely confined to vending the artide
in a dried or fried state, one or two of
them dabbling in shrimps and peri-
winkles. Where, however, is the inMh
fish — the plaioe, the soles, the ood— of
which, according to Billinesgato statie-
tics, at least one half of all that oomei
to market is consumed by the mj
poorest of the London populationr
Now, however, when the business of the
market is in full blast, the question no
longer exists. Here is the frvsh fish, in
broad flat wicker baskets* slung round
the neck, in solitary *pads,' standing
in the mud, on little boards or trestles^
lit up by a feeble candle, and on great
boaros, eight or ten feet long and aiz
broad, standing on substantial Ieg% and
lit by a great flaring naptha lamp. Tlie
owners of these broad boards are no
mean fish-pedlars, standing dumbly be-
hind their warestilla customer happens
to calL They are wholesale dealers, fish
auctioneers. As many people stand round
the board as would fiU the larsest fish-
monger's shop in the metropolis. YeC^
excepting a heap of eopper money — ^half
a peck of it, probably—the board is
quite clear. Surrounding the auctioneer^
however (who is dressed in oorduzoj
trousers and blue guernsey shirty the
sleeves of which are rollecl above the
elbows of his great hairy arms), is a
lari;e number of 'pads' of plaiee,
and, just behind him. is a big tnb
full of water. One of his attendants
(he generally has two) presently
Elungeai his arms into one of the * pads,*
rings out a uouple of fiidi, souses them
Selections.
181
into the water-tub, and then hands them
to his master. Without paying the
least attention to the lookers-on the man
coolly proceeds to disembowel the fish,
to chop through the backbone, to make
tiiem Dandy for the frying-pan, and to
thread them on a willow twig. All this
while, and imsolicited, the people round
are bidding * Threeha'pence ! ' * tup-
pence T *two-un-arf!' 'Yours, mum,*
obeerree the laconic fisherman, handing
the fish to the 'two-nn-arf,' and pro-
ceeding to disembowel and thread two
more. It was curious to observe the
Tariooe countenances of the bidders and
boyers ; the eagerness with which these
women scrambled over the heads and
ihoulders of their neighbours to get at
their bargains, and with a look that
plainly said 'the price of those will
astonish my Jack, I'll be bound ;' while
others parted with their halfpence regret-
fnlly, and as though conscious of having
been a little too Imsty in their bidding.
Worst of all, however, were the gaunt
women with their mites of shawls and
ample aprons, and with husband out of
work and any number of children, look-
ing out of tlieir anxious eyes as tliey
watch the cutting up of the fish, and
whether it be thick or thin. That seems
a likely lot! Shall they bid? Better
not, perhaps ; wait and see the next lot
80 they wait till ashamed to wait any
k»ger, and take the 'next lot' and
dianoeiU
It is, however, a great consolation to
know that these poor mothers may at
^be worst depena on ample value for
tliair preciouB halfpence. Soles and
j^aim were the fish chiefly dealt in by
the auctioneers, and the prices they
nalised were abeolutelv ridiculous.
Soles, for a pair of whicn Mr. Greves
would charge half-a- crown, were dis-
posed of, af^r a by no means spirited
oiddiD^, for threepence - halfpenny.
TooehiDg the cheapness of plaice, I can't
do better than quote an instance to
which I was an evewitness. A mon-
strous feUow, broad and thick as a tur-
bot» was fished out of a 'pad,' cleaned,
gutted, and made ready for the pan, and,
irfter al), the price it brought was four'
ftnee, ' If you aint got him at 'apenny
a pound it's funny to me,' observed the
aoeCioneer, and a friendly potato sales*
Billys stall A^oining his, he put the
fish in his scales. The potato-man had
no weights of less than a pound, but the-
fourpenny plaice asserted its superiority
to the seven-pound weight, and onlj
consented to a balance when a hirge
potato was added and brought to bear
against him.
It is a curious fact— «nd one more
proof of the extravagance of poverty —
that in nine cases out of ten the fish
purchased was intended for the frying-
pan, and not for the pot. It was easy
to ascertain this, as whenever a bidder
wanted a fish to boil, she signified the
same at the time she made her bid,
•Thrippence — for bilinl' some ono
would exclaim ; whereon the auctioneer
would arrest the descent of his big-chop
ping knife, and deliver the fish entire.
Among the squalid poor the same pre-
judice exists as re^rds mutton. Fish
fried, and mutton baked or roast, if you
please ; but as to boiling either, except
when ordered by the doctor, the prac-
tice is regarded as 'namby-pamby,'
and Frencn.
This universal fish-frying is the key
to another mystery common to the
neighbourhood. In every 'scneral
shop,' in every rag and bone shop, in
the high street, and in the hundred
courts and filthy alleys that worm in
and out of it, may bo seen solid slabs of
a tallowy-looking substance, and marked
with a figure 6, 7, or 8, denoting that
for as many pence a pound weight of
the suspicious-looking slab may be ob-
tained. It is bought in considerable
quantities by the fish-eaters for frying
purposes, and is by them supposed to
be simply and purely the fat dripping
of roast and baiked meats, supplied to
these shops by cooks, whose perquisite
it is. This, however is a delusion. The
villainous compoimd is manufactured.
There is a ' dnpping-maker' near Sea-
bright-street, Betnnal-CTeen, and another
in Backchurch-lane, Whiteohapel, both
flourishing men, and the owners of
many carts and sleek cattle. Mutton
suet and boiled rice are the chief ingre-
dients used in the manufacture of the
slabs, the gravy of bullocks' kidneys
being stirred into the mess when it is
half cold, giving to the whole a mottled
and natural appearance. — Unamtimental
JwmeySy by Jame» Gretnvoood,
182
BelecUans,
DIFFICULTIES OF IDENTIFICATION.
A large proportion of ordinary per-
vons, it may be eyen a majority, but
t)ertainly a very large proportion, are
very untrustworthy witnesses to identify
when dependent on appearance alone.
They are either from nature or habit
incapable of appreciating form, and
form alone is the unerring proof of
ipersonal identity. The difficulties in
Xhe way of identification, more espe-
cially of the dead, are to them insuper-
able. In the first place, people are
much more similar than we always
remember. Without accepting or dis-
puting the extraordinary idea which
exists in so many countries, and is the
basis of so many fables, that every man
has his * double' somewhere, an indi-
Tidual absolutely identical in appear-
ance with himself, it is quite certain
that the most extraordinary likenesses
do exist amone persons wholly discon-
nected in blood, tnat there are faces and
forms in the world which are rather
tj^pes than individualities — people so
bke one another that only the most
intimate friends and connections can
detect the difference. The likeness of
Madame Lamotte to Marie Antoinette
is a well known historic instance, and
there are few persons who have not in
their own experience met with some-
thing of the same kind. The writer
has twice. In one case, he was on
board a ship in which were two pas-
sengers, who neither were, nor by pos-
sibility could be, connected by birth or
any other circumstance whatever, ex-
oept» indeed, caste. Oddly enough,
they were unaware of a likeness which
was the talk of the ship, dressed in the
fame style, but from some inexplicable
repulsion — we are stating mere facts —
disliked and avoided one another. The
writer, in a six weeks' voyage and with
a tolerably intimate acquaintance with
one of the two, never succeeded in dis-
tinguishing them by sight ; and of the
remaining passengers, certainly one-
half, say thirty educated persons, were
in the same pmicament In the second
instance the evidence is far less perfect^
but sufficient for the argument we are
now advocating. The writer stopped
short in Bond-street utterly puzzled by
the apparition of one of his closest
connections not two yards off. Clearly
it was he, yet he could from circum-
stances by no possibility be there. Still
it was he, and the writer advanced to
address him, when a momentary smile
broke the spell, leaving, however, this
impression, *I would have sworn to
BUnk in any Court of Justice. His
double must be walking about Bond-
street.' The likeness was really astound-
ing, quite sufficient to have deo6iv<ed
any number of policemen unacquainted
previously wi^ either man. The writer
has a faculty for likeness or a stupidity
about identities? That is a planaibb
tJiou^h an erroneous explanation, and
it brings up just the point we want to
make. Is it not just possible — it is
rather a serious supposition, when our
criminal procedure is oonsiderad — fauft
is it not just possible that something
like colour blindness affects this matter
of identification? that there is • Inrga
number of persons whose evidence upon
any question of identity, though per-
fectly honest, is worthy of very little
trust? that men upon this, as upon
most other matters, are guilty oi an
unconscious carelessness, like that which
makes testimony about figured stato-
ments so often valuelen. ? We are all
apt to think that we observe ham
very carefully, but it is quite certain,
more certain than almost any anv
tion of the same kind, that we do not
so observe them. We are also apt
to believe that the difibrenoe in laoea
is verr great, is radical, and not
dependent upon accidental featniM^
yet it is almost certain that no nieh
difference exists, that men are in
reality as nearly alike as animals
appear to be. Take, for instance, in
evidence of both these propositions— of
the carelessness of our usual glance, and
of tlie similarity among men — a ftet
which a number of our readers can test
for themselves. No man on landing at
an Indian or Chinese port for the first
time can for a few days tell one man
from anoUier. The natives are mora
decisively unlike than so many English-
men, because in addition to every other
distinction their complexions oorsr a
wider range of colour ; but being simi-
larly dressed, they seem for a few days
as much alike as so many sheep, who are
all alike to a Londoner, but among whom
a shepherd or a dog makes no mistake.
Now, if men were much unlike, mora
unlike Umn the sheep are, no sndi
curious hasiness woolcT be possible^ nor
Selections.
183
irould it be if the obserrer were unoon-
Kioofilj in the habit of studying the form
and character of each face. He has, as
a rule, no such habit, but, unless an
artist or a policeman, relies uncon-
floionaly on accidental circumstances,
eoloor, hair on lip or chin, gait, expres-
lion, or peculiarity of some one feature,
and ahould that by any accident disap-
pear he is utterly puzkled. One-tenth,
at leasty of Western mankind is con-
tciously or unconsciously short-sighted,
and nerer teest in any true sense of
teeing, any face whatever, never quite
oatohes iti nuances of expression, never
ia quite sure about its minor features,
never quite ceases to idealize according
to a preconceived theory of character.
Bven of those who do see perfectly, a
laige proportion are not artists, never
eateh the speciality of the face they are
lookioff at enough to caricature it, —
fome laces won't submit to caricature,
Lord Derby's, for instance, and Mr.
Gladstone's, in both of which the cari-
catoriat invariablv intensifies tbe whole
expression — ana really recollect it
mainly by its accident of colour or the
like, aocidente which may disappear in
life, and which do disappear in death.
It is not easy to reoognijse the photo-
graphs of men whose appearance depends
on colour, and death does its work in
destroying colour even more perfectly
than the sun. Fatness and thinness,
too, are great aids to recognition ; yet
thej are temporary, dependent some-
times on mere accidents of health. We
haye all of us met friends whom we have
not seen, say, for three years, who have
grown wider, if not wiser, in the inter-
Tal, and whom we should not without
speech have recognised. Death, as a
rale, wMle it leaves much unchanged,
aHMoIatetr destroys every distinction
based either upon colour or upon fat-
ness, and modifies thinness in the most
unexpected way, revealing unsuspected
depths about brow and mouth, while
leaving the cheek untouched. No child
is reoognisable in death by mere ac-
r'ntsAce, because in chilaren's faces
prominent points are colour and
contour. An actor cannot change his
teal face, but only the accidents of the
ftee ; yet Mr. Webster, for example, has
«nee or twice deceived his audience for
tome minutes, and could, we suspect,
deceive them, if that were his object,
altogether. Think, again, of the excos-
flifo difficulty with which the memory
ntains a face. Portrait painters of
half a century's standing will tell you
that they hardly retain the impression
of a sitter five minutes, though they
have been studying him keenly: that
their own first touches from him as he
sits are invaluable helps; that they
would all, if it were convenient for art
reasons, like to keep a photograph in full
view for their work when the original is
away. We think we remember, but in five
minutes we forget, the half of a friend's
face nearly as perfectly as we forget the
whole of our own. Clearly if identifica-
tion were as easy as wo are apt to
believe, we should not so forget faces.
And their expression? Doubtless ex-
pression being, so to speak, an intellectual
rather than a physical fact, stirring and
rousing the intellect of the observer, his
secret and almost instinctive likes and
dislikes, remains longer fixed in the
mind than mere feature. The witness
who arrested Judge JoQries might have
forgotten his face, did foreet it, in fact,
for Jofiries when seized had only changed
his wig, but he could not foreet the
ferocious glare of those insufierable eyes.
But expression changes quickly, may
change permanently. We all say everj
now and then, ' His face quite changed,'
while nothing is changed except, perhaps,
the expression and the colour. Mad-
ness, extreme anger, drink, will all
change a well-known face till it is
almost irrecognisable, and though, no
doubt, it requires a combination of cir-
cumstances to deceive a wife as to her
husband's identity, still there is one
expression which in a case like that of
Hackney Wick she has never seen, and
that is aeath, of all influences the one
which mij most modify expression,
both by altering the set of the features,
and changing the emotional medium
through which we regard them. No
doubt there are faces so marked and so
individual, so completely isolated from
any type, and so independent of
accident, that it is almost impossible
they should ever be forgotten or mistaken.
It would have been nearly impossible
for Sir Thomas More to disguise him-
self, and we question if Dr. Newman or
Mr. Tennyson could abolish the expres-
sion of eye and brow sufficiently to
bafile recognition ; and there are artists,
and as the public believes detectives,
who would recognise any face under anj
disguise. But the majority of men
trying under changed circumstances to
recognise ordinary faces from their
memories of feature alone are liable, wo
184
Notices of Boohs,
feel conyinced, to self-deceptions as
extraordinapy and yet as natural as that
we may charitably attribute to this Mrs.
Banks, or that which prompted the
evidence afainst the marine so nearly
hung for his share in the recent Man-
chester imeuie — The Spectator,
NOTICES OF BOOKS.
Children of the Stat^. The Training
of Juvenile Paupers, By Florence
Hill. Pd. 275. London; Macmil-
lan and Co.
TiiE education of pauper children has
been hitherto for the most part a
great mistake. Instead of being trained
80 as to be fit to be taken up into the
ranks of industrial life, and become inde-
Sendent of public aid, they have been
eld apart, m wholly unnatural condi-
tions. The unspeakably precious dis-
cipline of family life has heen entirely
withheld from them. All possibility of
developing the young affections healthily
has been denied. Koutine, with its be-
numbing hands, has wrapped thom
round; and not having haa to meet
the unlocked for emergencies of life,
there has been no development of
power to deal with them. Hence, of
all beings, the workhouse child is the
most helpless ; and when he goes out
into the world is least fitted to with-
stand its temptations, or to exercise
wise self-guidance in any of its diffi-
culties. The yoimg girl, polluted in
mind by association with abandoned
women, goes out of the workhouse for
the first time to seek her fortune, and
comes back, by an almost certain and
irresistible law, with a bastard in her
arms, and to the workhouse as her
necessary and rightful refuge. The
young lad is bound apprentice, but
having learnt nothing of the value of
property he has never been allowed to
possess, nor of self-remunerative labour
ne has never been permitted to exercise,
he proves worthless to his master, and
naturally betakes himself, if enter-
prising, to crime, which leads him to
the jail; and, if unenterprising, to
the workhouse, in which a maintenance
is always at his command. And so,
instead of becoming re-ab£ orbed into
the industrial ranks they had been
precipitated from by the vice or mis-
fortune of their parents, these * children
of the state ' are tied hand and foot to
the wheel of a pauper destiny, and with
it, from childhood till death, they help-
lessly revolve.
A just and powerful protest against
this dreadful mismana^^ement of young
people in workhouses la made by Mias
Florence Hill in the book before as.
She adduces statistics, instances, cases^
and supplies arguments which irresis-
tibly prove the need of a thorough
change in the current method of dealing
with pauper children. From a hundrea
sources of information, native and for-
eign, she shows what commonly is and
ought not to be, and what might be
and ought to be and in some instances
actually is. Her facts are startling,
her arguments convincing, her oonolu-
sions irresistible.
After reviewing all the other varietiea
of treatment of the children of the
state, in workhouse schools, in factory
apprentice schools, in separate schools,
as at Limehouse, in district schools, in
the Norwich homes, and in private
industrial training houses (as at Brock-
ham), Miss Hill adverts to the boarding-
out system, which exists in several
countries, and is, she considers, deserving
of general adoption. She says : —
' It has been pursued long enough,
and under sufficiently varied circum-
stances to reveal its excellencies, and for
us to estimate how far the defects dis-
closed are capable of removal <ur amend-
ment. In Ireland, as a purely voluntary
enterprise, it has attained marked
success and won general approval;
while in Scotland it has been widely
adopted, and entirely administered b^
the parochial authorities. Of their
satisfaction with it, under both a moral
and pecuniary aspect, we are informed ;
and we have seen that it has obtained
also the qualified approbation of dis-
interested out peculiarly competent ob-^
servers, who are of opinion that an ad-
mixture of voluntary agency, including
some additional supervision by ladies,,
would render it still more efficient.
* In the United States we learn that
it has been for many years adopted by*
Notices of Books.
185
Tolontary workers, and by semi-official
labourers in reformatory schools and
cognate institutions. In Prance we ob-
serre it to be largely practised by a de-
partment of the State; and where
soooessfully pursued — under the ad-
ministration, namely, of the Bureau
Ste.Apolline — we learn that voluntary
•id is invoked in the form of sympathy
and friondl;^ supervision from persons
of social eminenoe residing in the neigh-
boarh«od of the children's homes.
• In Germany we find distinguished
men, whoi^e opinions founded on official
knowledge carry just weight, appi*oving
the plan, — partieuUrlv with reference
to girls ; and there also we see inde-
pendent philanthropists, who have made
the salvation of destitute children their
•peeial mission, elevating the influence
of domestic life above every other agency
that can be brought to bear for their
reclamation.
' We learn that the same system is
pormed in Russia in the disposal of
orphans ; and, as regards fhe/n, it would
api>ear successfully. The neglect of
their own offspring by the foster-mothers
is a result too shocking to be compen-
aated by any advantage to the alien
child ; but by regulating the payment
so that it shall aflbrd no temptation to
cupidity, this evil, as we have seen by
the experience of other countries, ana
markedly of Germany and Ireland, is
avoided. That the foster-parents should
not be out of pocket by their acceptance
of an orphan is, we are persuaded, all
that should be aimed at in apportioning
their remuneration. Food, clothing,
and shelter, may be paid for by the
fixate; but the love, watchfulness, and
sympathy which are equally essential to
a child's welfare should be the far more
precious contribution of the foster-
parent ; and in this, truly, the giver and
the receiver are equally blessed. Such
feelings may reveal themselves in care
for the dail^ comfort and little pleasures
of their object, as well as in providing
ibrits monl and spiritual advantage.
We have rarely witnessed a more
toQohinff scene than presented itself in
the modest home of one of the little
orphans we have already referred to
aa placed to board in an English
cottage — the abode of two old maids.
They doat upon the child, and she has
beocnne to them the very light of their
house. The joyous pride is not to be
described with which tney displayed her
seatly-aminged clothing, the patchwork
they taught her to make, the mittens
she had knitted for them and herself,
the umbrella they had persuaded her
to save her pence to buy, and which waa
to protect the pretty little hat into which
a well-worn bonnet of tlieir own had
been converted, — a little history of kind-
ness attaching to almost every garment ;
for though all substantial requirements
are provided by the Guardians, there is
still ample scope for afiection to employ
itself in making up the material in-
vitingly, and adding tlie various eC
ceteraa which mark the difference be-
tween the little pauper in its dull uni-
form, and the well-cared for cottage
child. The orphan in question pecu-
liarly illustrates the beneficial working
of the boarding-out system. An illegi-
timate child, she was about at her
mother's death to be consigned to the
workhouse, when a lady in the neigh-
bourhood obtained permission to place
her in a cottage, the Board of Guaraians
allowing her out-door relief. An aunt
in service at a distance had come to
attend the mother's funeral, and the
child's patroness appealed to her to con-
tribute to its maintenance. Thankful
that the little creature should be
saved from the workhouse, she gladly
agreed to give a shilling a week,— a
large sum for her, and has transmitted
this money ever since, not only cheer-
fully, but with expressions of the
warmest gratitude to the benevolent
suggestor of the plan. The woman is
deeplj interested in her niece's welfare,
with whom a natural and wholesome
connexion is maintained; whereas, if
the little thing had gone into the work-
house, her relative would probably have
felt ashamed of, or even forgotten, her.
We make a great mistake, as the child's
patroness remarked to us, in a.ssuming
that pauper orphans are isolated beings
without relatives in the world. They
are rarely thus destitute ; and frequently
have connexions able, if not to support
them entirely, at least to help in tneir
maintenance. But they reside perhaps
at a distance from the place where the
parents die, and imless there is some
one sufficiently interested in the child
to appeal to their better feelings in its
behalf, thev remain neglectful, or per-
haps even ignorant of its bereavement ;
it drifts into the workhouse, becoming
a heavy burden on the rate-payers
during its childhood, and too often a
disgrace to its family and its country
for the rest of its life.
186
Notices of Boohs.
* When the time arrires for the little
maidoo, whose history we have sketched,
to go to 8er?ice, her patroness trusts the
aunt will seek for her a place and keep
her under her eye ; but should this not
oome to pass, we can hardly doubt that
she will haye the friendship and pro-
tection, as long as they live, of the two
women to whom she is now as a beloved
child.
^ *We could not, however, conscien-
tiously advocate the boarding-out system
unless it be accompanied with constant
and active supfirvision. This the autho-
rities assure us is ampl^ exercised by
officials in those distncts where the
plan has originated with Boards of
Guardians. But, zealous and kind-
hearted as the officers appointed to this
important duty may be, it must be per-
formed by them to a greater or less
degreo as a matter of routine ; the time
of their visits of inspection may
generally be calculated, and these can-
not be sufficiently frequent to prevent,
at any rate, the possibility of ill-usaee.
Moreover, a man, however thoughtful
for the children's welfare, does not
possess the knowledge of their wants
and difficulties which comes to a woman
almost intuitively ; and to supplement,
therefore, official authority by the
friendly watchfulness which a woman of
superior social position, residing within
easy reach of the orphan's home, can
exorcise, appears to us the keystone of
the system, ensuring to it public con-
fidence and permanent success.'
'Treating the same subject Miss
Carpenter remarks, *'The girl is es-
pecially adapted by nature for a home.
• . . The affections have large
■way over hor whole being. Nature
has given her varied scope for them in
the true home. She is the object of the
tender love of the parents, and of her
brothers and sister?, and love is con-
stantly awakened and called out by her
position in the family. She has the
babies to fondle and nurse like a little
moUier herself; she has a thousand
households cares to attend to, and learns
oooking practically while she helps to
get her father's dinner; and, if the
eldest girl, feels herself a very important
help in the house. After going regularly
to a good day-school, and learning
needlework, and enough of reading,
writing, and arithmetic for all common
purposes, she is prepared at fourteen to
take her humble position in life as a
little servant, or her mother's helper
and right hand^ and to fill it with eredii
A real good home is infinitely better
than any school for the education of
girls,— even a second-rate or a third-
rate one is preferable. There her troe
nature is developed, and, unless she is
thus prepared to fill its duties well in
after life, all other teaching is com-
paratively useless."* The passage just
citeri speaks only of young persons
dwelling with their parents, but they
are equally applicable to foster-children ;
and if, thus accustomed to the duties*
hardships and pleasures of ordinary
life, these coula have the additions
boon of one or two years' traininfir at an
Industrial Home, in the branches of
domestic work it must be able to per-
form in a gentleman's house, it appears
to us that a future career of usetulneas
and respectability would be, in tb«
present lack of servants, almost ab-
solutely ensured to it. The Industrial
Home would thus take the place of a
*' finishing school;" and we would
complete the analogy by permitting the
pupil, where practicable, to return for
occasional short holidays to its cottage
home, that the family bond, on which
we count so much for it future guidance
and protection, might not be severed.
*The want of skilled servants is daily
making itself more and more felt. The
demand increases while the supplyt
from various causes, as markedly di-
minishes. "The gp*eatest step taken
will be," says a writer, discussing this
fact in the Edinburgh Eemew^ *' when wo
can raise the lowest social class into the
late position of that which is escaping
from our command, — ^when we can re-
plenish domestic service from schools
which will have rescued paupers and
ragged children from pauperism and
raggedtte6s."t The 12,000 pauper
orphans, thrown annually on our cars^
may be regarded at once as the Hite and
the most manageable of that class ; and
they afford a stock of raw material firom
which we may . hope, by due training
and the development of their moral
nature, to replace the capable and
attached servants who are finding their
way into other paths of life.
'An objection to the Boarding-oat
system to which we have already re-
ferred, namely the insufficiency of ^ood
cottage homes, is, we ourselves beheve,
from inquiry and observation, ill
* Social Scienet TVansaetions, 18^.
t Eiaiburgh JtCevisw, April, 1863.
Notiee$ of Books.
187
Koanded ; and the experience of those
nevolent persons who hare introduced
the plan in Tarioas parts of England
strengthens that conTiction. All who
are intimately acquainted with our
hnmhler brethren (whoso generosity in
giring far exceeds that of the wealthy
classes) are aware it is no unusual oir-
eumstanoe for a child who loses its
parents to be spontaneousljr received
into another famuy. Again, it must be
remembered that where Mrs. Archer's
■cheme is adopted the Tcry presence of
the orphan will tend to improre the
cottage in which it is placed, by laying it
open to the inspection of a person whoso
good opinion the cottager will be anxious
to preserye; while the orphan will in
■ome respects enjoy eren an advantage
OTer the offspring of the cottager,
namely in its regular attendance at
idhooly and still more in the fact that
it is an object of interest to a neighbour
of saperior position who is responsible
for its welfare, and able to remove it if
the circumstances of its home are un-
faroiirable.
' Bat, if, on a general adoption of the
system, p>od homes should not be found
in sniBcient abundance, thcv might be
snpnlemented by a plan which suggested
itself many years ago to the Doan of
Bristol, and which is recommended also
by Canon Moseley, whose long ex-
perience as a School Inspector renders
BIS sanction invaluable. Canon Moseley,
we may add, entirely approves Mrs.
Archer's scheme for boardmg children
in cottages, which has been in satisfuc-
torj operation in his own parisli for
two years, under the supervision of his
wife and daughters. " It struck me/'
the Bean informs us, " when brought in
contact with sundry country scbools,
that it might be possible to graft on
Ibem a boarding-system, the boarders to
be children who would otherwise bo in
poorhonses. I assume that there might
easily be found among the country
■ofaools, a very considerable number of
■ehoolmasters and schoolmistresses who
were quite capable of undertaking Uie
care oi boarders. I felt that it would
be a very great advantage to the pauper
children to be thus dispcr-ved in country
homes, — ^not the least beine that they
wonld by natural process ho absorbed
into the labour market I thought also
that the guardians might be induced to
grant such allowance with the children
■• would enable many a school to
•trogglo out of present difficulty, and
as might perhaps be conducive to bring
others into existence. Superintendence
would have to bo provided, but that is
already given in most agricultural
schools by the clergy and other
friends."'
We cannot here complete the quota*
lion so as to show how Miss Hill meets
objections and provides for the residuum
of inapplicable cases. The following is
her own summary of the principles her
book appears fully to establish : —
* Ist Our Poor-law implies a right
to aid from the State in all incapable of
supporting themselves.
«2nd. The State in granting such
aid obtains a correlative control over
the recipients.
< 3rd. The vest power she thus takes
to herself furnishes her with means for
the reduction of pauperism which her
own interests, apart,from higlier motives,
render it imperative on her to employ.
*4th. These means lie, as rc^rds
the young, in so training them as to
impart the desire and the capacity for
eelf-support.
* 5th. One condition essential to this
end is their complete separation from
adults of their own class, — such separa-
tion being impossible where the school
forms part of the same building with
the workhouse.
' 6th. That must be the best method
of training children which is appointed
by Nature, — namely under family in-
fluences; and when artificial methods
are employed, they should be made to
approach the model as closely as
possible.
' 7tli. The method practised in our
Pauper Schools is contrary to that estab-
lished by Nature ; and fails signally in
producing good results.
* 8th. The *• family system," as pur-
sued in Industrial Homes, and as still
more precisely followed in " boarding-
out," while it secures separation from
adult paupers, conforms, as nearly as
practical oDHtaclcs permit, to the course
prescribed by Nature herself.
* 9th. Its success has been proved by
long and varied experience.'
Report upon the Educational and other
Conditions of a District at Gaytkom,
and Knott Mill^ Manchester ^ vitntedin
18G8, ffiVA Olkservations suffgested hu
the Visitation. By Thoiuas Beaa
Wilkinson.
We have been favoured with an early
proof of this valuable paper, which was
188
Notices of Boohs.
read on the 8th of April, before the
Manchester Statistical Society, and is
printed in the new number of that
Society's Transactions. To add to the
already large but somewhat disputed
amount of reliable statiitics shewing the
educational condition of Manchester, Mr.
Wilkinson undertook daring last win-
ter/at the cost of the president of the
Society, Mr. Langton, to have a house-
to-house visitation made of a district
previously uncanvassed, which should
give as far as possible a fair sample
ot a few hundred families of the weekly-
wage earning class. Although situated
very near to three of the best primary
schools in Manchester, as well as to
several other day-schools, yet, of 733
children in the district, over three and
imder fourteen years of age, only 339
or 46.2 per cent were reported at
school; whilst 87, or 11.9 per cent
were said to be at work, and 307, or
41.9 per cent professed to be neither at
school nor at work. Again, 35 per cent
of the children between those ages had
never been to a dav-school. Mr. Wilkin-
son proves that the number of children
attending Sunday schoolfi, in proportion
to the population, shows a steady retro-
grade movement during the last thirty
years ; and whilst the increase in the num-
ber of children at day-schools in Man-
chester and Salford, between the years
1834 and 1864, hss been 54 per cent,
that of the population has been more
than 80 per cent. In his paper, Mr.
Wilkinson adduces man^ other statis-
tical comparisons and results, all
tending to show that voluntary effort
has be«n quite inadequate to effect ihe
great work of education in Manchester ;
tnat, in his own words, * there are
lower and lower strata of our social
world which are too feebly touched by
the impulsive benevolence of individuals
or charitable organisations, which can
only be raised from their dark conditions
bj the strong and all-reaching arm of
wise legislation.' He advocates local
rating and local management, with
governmental inspection. Payment for
results he would continue as at present
out of the Consolidated Fund ; but he
would apply local taxation to the estab-
lishment and maintenance of schools
under county and municipal boards,
instead of voluntary contributions and
school pence. He would not disturb
the management of religious denomi-
national schools, so long as the secular
instruction given in them is efficient ;
and in the new schools to be founded
out of the rates, he would conform to
the present requirements of the Com-
mittee of Council, as to daily Scripture
reading. All public day schools he
would make free; then, and then only
with justice, might clauses be enacted,
compulsory on employers of labour and
on neglectful psrents. We can only
thus briefly indicate, at this late hour,
the nature of Mr. Wilkinson's paper,
which supplies much ground both for
painful consideration, and for prompt
action.
The Siory of a Blind Inventor ; Being
Some Account of ihe Life and Laboure
of Dr, Jamii Gale, M.A., F.G.S.p.
j^.C/S., Inventor of the Non-explosive
Gunpowder Process, etc., etc., and
Founder of the South Devon and
Cornwall Institution for the InaCruc-
tion and Employment of the Blind,
By John Plummer. Pp. 299. Lon-
don : William Tweedie, 337, Strand.
Mr. Plummsb — himself a remarkable
man — is here the biographer of one
still more remarkable. It is not often
that wo have the * memoirs pour servir *
of distinguished men recorded in
their lifetime ; nor would it be well that
the plan should be commonly followed ;
yet, on the whole, we are not sorry that
custom in the present instance has been
departed from, for there is much that
may be really very cheering and help-
ful to blind persons in the history of
Dr. James Gale, and why should the^
wait to be put in possession of it until
the perhaps far oistant day when Dr.
Gale shall have gone to that happier
land where his sight will be restored ?
Mr. Plummer informs us that the com-
pilation of this memoir has been con-
siderabljr facilitated by the kind assist-
ance which the author has received from
sundry friends of Dr. James Gale's.
His intention has been to bring forward"
everything of public interest relating to
an inventor whose histoir not only
offers a bright and encouraging example
of the power and value of self-help, but
also tends to afford considerable encour-
agement to those eneaged in the pursuit
of knowledge under difficulties, by show-
ing how perseverance and energy can
vanquish the most formidable obstacles,
converting impediments into so many
stepping-stones to success. O n the whole,
henas fulfilled this intention very satis-
factorily. We do not mean to imply
that it would not have been possible to
have brought all that is essential to the
Notices of Books.
189
parpose of the memoir into a somewhat
narrower compass. There is certainly
an air of book-making about Aome of tlie
chapters. The total amount of topo-
graphic matter, of remarks on blindness
m the abstract, and of rollections on
things in general, might haTO been re-
duced with advantage to the fuliilment
of the proposed object of the volume.
Notwithstanding the necessity of mak-
ing this deduction, the book is well
worthy of a place in the library. It
seCe before us the outward lineaments,
the mental characteristics, the brave
struggles, and the useful inventions,
of a man who has met misfor-
tune, not only patiently, but with a
cheerful manly courage worthy of all
imitation, and entitling him to the warm
regard of all who are able to appreciate
iL It shows how a youth may be
amitten with blindness yet not crushed
into inefficiency; deprived of a thousand
aids to improvement, yet resolutely bent
on advancing his education at all points ;
made irresistibly dependant on others
to some extent, yet scorning to yield
one hair^S'breadth to misfortune where
it was possible to resist, and going
about with a still augmenting fund of
aelf-helpfulness which should act as a
wholesome tonic to all who, suffering
from ' the stings and arrows of outra-
geous fortune,' ore inclined weakly to
•uooamb.
Ten Years m a Lunatic Asylum, By
Mabel Etchell. Pp. 368. liondon :
fiimkin, Marshall, and Co., Station-
ers' Hall Conrt.
'The social condition of our lunatic
asvlums,' the author says very properly,
' should not be shrouded in uncertainty
or mystery. To produce a faithful pic-
ture of Uie inner life there presentoa, is
the first object of this little volume.'
Although, tnerefore, her book is cast in
a mould of fiction, and we may not re-
grd 'Mabel Etcheir throughout all
r story as a person upon whom iden-
tification can be thrust, yet tliere is no
doubt we have here descriptions from
actual ezperienoe of incidents occurring
in asylum-life, and that the book before
us is one to which those may apply who
desire to know what there is in the man-
agement of ordinary asylums for the
insane that may require reconsidera-
tion and amendment. It is an artless,
afBMSting story that the author tells.
As the result of insanity induced by
iUoeis, consequent on the machinations
of an nnoonaeientious guardian, Mabel
is removed to a private asylum in the
first instance, ana, after a while, into
one of the county institutions for the
insane. In these places she undergoes
much needless and even wantonly-in-
fiicted suffering, partly through the
apathetic and inconsiderate management
of tlie authorities, resulting m arrange-
ments tliat tell severely on the deli-
cately nurtured and sensitive patient,
and partly through the ignorant coarse-
minaednoas and greed of the attendants.
Several scenes illustrative of these de-
fects we have placed amongst our 'Selec-
tions.' The book is written so as to be
at once interesting as a tale, and to sup-
ply much matter for thought and many
Iiints for the amelioration of asylum
life, to all who are in any way concerned
in the management of the insane.
A Glimpse at the Social Condition of the
Working Classes^ during the early
part of the Present Century. Trade
Strikesy and their Consequences to the
People who may be immediately con-
nected with them. With Bejtections
upon Trades Unions and their
ManageTnent. By the Author of ' The
Auto-Biography of a Beggar Boy.'
Pp. 15(^. London: Heywood&Co.,
335, Strand.
The ' Beggar Boy,' whose autobiography
was published some yearsago, now seeks
in his old age to put on record his re-
collections of the state of the people of
this country as they were early in the
century, and his various reflections on
their now existing condition. He effects
his purpose in five chapters. In the
first he describes the clifficulties the
people had to struggle with when he
was young. In the second he treats of
trades' unions and friendly societies. In
the third, he discourses of the price of
labour and its sustentation. He returns
to trade societies and their arrangement
in the fourth ; and, winds up with an
account of, and comments on, the
American trade convention of 1867.
In regard to strikes, he has endeavoured
to show that great and serious errors
have been committed in the manage-
ment of them, — that turn-outs, as a
rule, have been failures for want of
common prudence in calculating the
circumstances, and that the men en-
gaged in strikes have not only commonly
suffered defeat, but have lowered them-
selves in the estimation of the public,
and, as a necessary consequence, have
had the credit of being wrong when they
were morally right In depicting the
190
Notices of Books.
difficulties the people had to struggle
Trith in the early part of the present
oenturyttheauthor puts some interesting
Boenes before us. Whilst sympathising
strongly with trades unions, and taking
a working man's view of the labour
question, be is well aware, and does not
fail to point out, that no combination
of men can keep up the value of labour
beyond its power to remunerate the
capitalist ; and he does not forget that
a higher standard of wages becomes in
itself a tax upon the people> by forcing
up the price of the necessaries and the
common luxuries of life. He maintains
that something must shortly be done
to legalise trades' anions ; that it will
not do to allow these institutions, with
their great and powerful sooial ma*
chinery, to remain beyond the pale of
the civil law ; that what is good in them
should be fostered and protected, whilst
what is mischievous should be made
amenable to authority. On the whole,
the ' Glimpse ' and the * Beflections ' he
supplies, well deserve looking at and
considering, by those who desire to
understand the present condition of
this country.
UnuniimentalJoumeys ; or, Bye Ways
of Modem Babylon. By James
Greenwood. Author of * A Night in a
Workhouse.' * The True History of a
Little Ragamuffin,' &c., &c. Pp.
233. London: Ward, Lock, and
Tyler, Warwick House, Paternoster
Eow.
Hr. Greenwood has a singular ability in
observing low life, and in remembering
what he observes ; and as he has also
no little descriptive power, he produces
pictures almost equal to photographs
in faithful minuteness. Instead of
taking us, as Legh Hunt took us, into
the highways and byeways of London to
point out the hal^effaced footsteps of
aeparted genius or talent, or to produce
rubbings from the quaint monuments
of former times, Mr. Greenwood sees
nothing in London but the current
human life of to day, and of that, by
preference, the lowest and meanest
portion, though by no means the least
important if the future destiny of our
country be kept in view. Ho stands at
the hospital gate, and paints the much
misery, and the modicum of happiness
also, which are there. He takes us round
' Squalor's Market,' as our readers will
have seen in the passage reproduced
amongst our ' Selections.' He ehows us
over Newgate Market; insists on our
going with him to a dog show of the
most vulgar sort; sketimes the night
cofTee^booth and its customers; ais*
courses to us concerning muffins ; ac-
companies us to the horse repository
and the horse market, Mr. Dodd s
dust yard, the county court, the
leather market, the young bird
market, the Houndsditch jewellerj
market, and the dancing saloon;
and treats of the bones of London, the
boat of all work, Christmas Eve in
Brick Lane, the highway pastor,
watercresses and their supply, the
gleanings of the Thames bank, the
half-penny barber, Epsom races, the
coster's carnival, and the navvy; in
short, nothing is too low to attract hie
regard, or to engage his pencil ; and if
one half the world would acquire the
proverbially impossible knowledge of
how the other half lives, Mr. Greenwood
is the man to point the way to the ac-
quisition.
Memorials of the Bev» Wm,J, Shrewfhury,
By his Son, John Y. B. Slirewsbury.
Pp.528. London : EEamilton, Adams»
and Co., Paternoster Bow.
In the bad old days ot West India
Slavery, William Shrewsbury played a
part which gave him a very extensive
notoriety. He was in 1823 a Methodic
missionary in Barbados, and had the
great honour of being mortally hated
by the planters and their white agents
on the island. One effect of bis ministry
was that the coloured women refused to
continue in concubinage with white
men; and this greatly enraged the
licentious. 'There was a force and
Ci^ency about his reproof of sin that
men could not endure.' As an
earnest minister of Christ, prudent to a
proper extent, but not inclined, as easy-
going rectors and others were, to hide
every honest conviction of his heart
in deference to the iniquitous men who
were in power, he became odious to the
class, who actually invented, as an
atrocious charge against him, the story
that he had once said that ' as nothing
was too hard for God, God could easily
make the slaves free,' and who pulled
down his chapel, endapgered his life,
and finally drove him from the island.
The same class of mind in England that
now admires Mr. Ex-Governor Eyre,
and that a few }ears ago let itself be
easily hoodwinked and misled by the
Times in its American Confederate pro-
clivitiee, took the part of the planters,
and let the brand of its infamy, which
Notices of Books.
191
WI8 really a mark of honour, on tlie
miasionarj Shrewsbury, whoso name
was long under a cloud in consequence.
To Tindicute his father's honuurablo
fame in this matter, as woU ns to set
forth his life-long exporionco, joys,
labour% and sacri flees as an active
minister of the Methodist body, his son
has produced this interesting Tolume.
Thie first edition haying been sold in
leM than two months, a second is now
out, with the addition of a portrait and
a table of contents.
OreJkanCa Thnperance ReciUr and Puhlie
B$ader; containing an interesting
Chapter on Beading and Beciting,
with instructions for the Management
of the Voice and Body, Praotico
Pieces, BeadingH, Bccitations, Dia-
logues, &c. Vol. I. Maidstone : Gra-
ham Brothers, 8, Kingsloy Boad.
London : F. Pitman, 20, Paternoster
Bow.
We do not belicTo in the oratory that
is learnt — ^that is acquired by rules un-
dertaking to guide tones of the voice and
postures and gestures of the body. We
iiaTO too often seen the result of that
sort of training on the platform, to bo
disposed to greet it with anything more
hopeful than a derisive smile. But for
those who have faith in it, this licciter
of the Messrs. Graham will supply all
the assistance that they can require.* The
rules are governed by good sense and
taste, in accord with the manner in
which all really good public speakers
guide themselves — though they do it by
instinct, not by rule. A largo number
of generally excellent readings and re-
citations nil the greater part of the
▼oluce.
J§kn Wesley; or, the Theology of
Cemscience. By the Author of 'The
Philosophy of Evangel icism.' Second
Edition. Pp. 9G. London: Elliot
Stock, G2, Paternoster Bow.
The Author of this treatise has in it
designed to prove ' that there is no
necessary antagonism between thorough*
g»ing evangelical orthodoxy, and the
yourite rationalistic dogma that a
religion, to be suitable fur the world,
must have its intuitive root in the
world's conscience.' 'The whole
question,' he says, * turns upon whether
the conception of an objective sacrifice
for sin has, or has not its origin in the
moral instincts. If it have, the evan-
gelical hypothesis admits of beiug
eroWed out of this primary truth with
perfect scientlflc oonaistcncy.' lie main-
tains stoutly that it has; and does so
with an ingenuity that entitles him to a
prominent place amongst those who
seek to reconcile evangelicism with
reason.
The Opinions and Practice of Medical
Men, with regard to Inioxicntiug
Drinks as a Medicine viewed from the
Non- Scientific, bid Common' Sense
stand foint of l^actical Experience,
By George Ward, United Kingdom
Alliance District Agent for Yorkshire.
Leeds : John Kershaw and Son.
A PAMFiiLET in which Mr. Ward states
some ycry interestinir facts coming
under his own observation. These tend
to aid at once both temperance and
longevity by strengthening the resistance
of patients to the alcohouc quackery of
medical men wlio, whilst very properly
scorning to direct their patients to apply
to the patent medicine vendor for
physic, have no scruple in sending
them for it to the alehouse or dram-
shop.
On Remuneraiii'e Prison Labour, as an
Instrumtnt for Promoting the Re-
format io7t, and Diminit'h-ng the cost of
Offenders. By Sir John Bowring,
LL.!)., F.RiS., J.P., and Deputy
Lieutenant of Devon. Exeter: Wm.
Clifford. London : W. Kent & Co.
The proposition that remunerative
labour gives the strongest incentive to
tlie reformation of the guilty, and has
been practically found a poient instru-
ment tor the diminution and suppression
of crime ; and that consequently, subject
to the needful requirements of prieou
discipline, the labour of prieoners should
be made as profitable as possible, is very
ably maintained in this pamphlet, with
the help of a powerful array of evidence
from British and Continental sources.
7 he Dietetic use of Alcoholic Beverages,
By Dr. James Edmunds. London :
Ileywood & Co., a^f), Strand.
A coRKKCTKD Tcport of a very instructive
lecture given at Cambridge Hall, New-
man-street^ Ix>ndon, on the Gth of Feb-
ruary last. We are glod to have it in
so cheap aiul available a form ; but still
more pleased by the announcement wo
find in it, that the author, who has
lon«; promisetl to put together a series
of lectures on the chief points of the
alcohol question, now expects very
shortly to bo enabled to redeem the
promise.
192
Notices of Boohs.
Savaae Island: A Brief Account of the
mand of Kiuif and of the Work of
the Gonpel among its people. By Bev.
Thomas Powell, F,G,8., twenty-three
years Missionary of the JLondon Mis-
sionary Society to the South Seas,
With Introductory Preface, by Sev,
B. Ferguson, LL.V. London: John
Snow and Co., 2, lyj Lane, Pater-
noster Row.
A FLIA8ING deecription of Sarage Island,
of its inhabitanta, and of the great work
of religious oiyilisation done amongst
them bj missionary enterprise.
The Dawn of Light : A Story of the
Zenana Mission, By Mary K. Leslie,
Calcutta. With an introduction bj
Ber. K. Storrow. Londoni John
Snow and Co., 2, Ivy Lane, Pater-
noster Kow.
A ITORT of East Indian life, and of the
dawning of Christian liffhton the minds
of certain natives, of wnom a charming
tale is told by the writer.
7)U Ginshop, Illustrated by George
Cruikshank. Ix>ndon: S. W. Par-
tridge.
TiiicMN rle?or comnositions appeared
originally in * The i)and of Hope Re-
Tiew,' and are now republished in two
furmK uu a sheet, antl in a book.
A SArtch of the History of French
h\tilusty»: «^(h Suggestions in favour
of thorough liaiiway Brform at
i/omf. ItjrHamucl Haughtou, Dublin,
II 1). Wobb and Sou.
Graham's Popular Thnperanee Harmo-
nist, Edited by the Rer. John Comps-
ton. Arranged for Four Voices and
the Pianoforte. Maidstone : Graham
Brothers. London : F. Pitman.
Pabt I. contains sixty popular pieces*
words and music oomplete.
The Church of England Temperance
Magazine. A Monthly Journal of
Intelligence. London: Seeley, Jack-
son, and Halliday; and S. W.
Partridge.
The Scattered Nation, A Monthly
Magazine. Edited by C. Schwarts,
B.D. London: Elliot Stock, 6%
Paternoster Row.
The Hive, A Storehouse of Material for
Working Sunday-school Teadkers.
Monthly. London : BUiot Stock, 6^
Paternoster Row.
An Address on Temperance to the
Churches of the Evangelical Union,
T. D. Morrison, d, Bath-atroet.
Glasgow.
Old Jonathan, the District and Parish
Helper, London: W. H. Colling-
ridge, Aldersgate-street
The Church. A monthly penny maga-
zine. London : Elliot Stock, 02;
Paternoster Row.
The Substitute for Capital Punishment.
London : W. Tallack, 6, Bishopgato-
street, without.
The Prisons of London and Middlesex.
Issued by the Howard Ajsociation.
Meliora.
SUNDAY DRINK. SELLING, AND THE SELECT
COMMITTEE OP 1868.
Speciai Report of ihe Select Oommittee on the Sunday Sale
of Inquors Bill, with the Proceedings of the Select Oom-
mittee, am,d Draft Reports proposed by Mr, John Abel
Smith, M.P., and Mr. KnatchbulUHugessen, M.P, Also
{he Minutes of Evidence, Ordered by the House of Commons
io be printed, London, 1868.
r\ID onr subject call for an exordium, we miglit descant on
AJ the uses and abuses to whicli the Parliamentary select
committee system may be put. The practice of referring to a
small body of gentlemen a question requiring careful examina-
tion, by the light of evidence from various quarters, is not only
void of objection, but seems eminently desirable; and actual
usage shows that it is often attended with sterling and striking
advantage. An example of this was afforded last session in
connection with the Electric Telegraphs Bill, whose passage
through both Houses was facilitated by — and, indeed, was
dependent upon — such a reference. But factious men well
understand how to turn excellent forms to ill account, and not
seldom has the artifice of opposition devised a select com-
mittee as a pit in which some measure of public utility might
be snugly consigned to obscurity and inevitable defeat. It
has often been remarked that few votes are ever known to be
changed by the most brilliant debate ; and the inquiries of
select committees, whatever their other results, are idmost as
much distinguished for their lack of influence, except in con-
firming the convictions and prepossessions of those by whom
they have been conducted. The recent inquiry into the Malt
Tax, carried on through a part of two sessions, terminated—
as it began — in seven members retaining one set of opinions
and six members another set. Still, where the composition
of a select committee is tolerably fair, the subject is sure of a
thorough ventilation, and the public get the benefit^ if not of
Vol. 11.— JSTo. 48. X
194 Sunday Drhik^SelUng and
a more impartial report, at least of a more valuable body of
evidence germane to the questions reviewed. Sometimes
select committees have been so much divided in sentiment as
to be able to agree on nothing else than to report the evidence
without comments or recommendations of their own. Proba-
bly the most glaring specimen on record of onesidednesa in
the composition and conduct of a select committee was offered
in the one appointed in 1855, on the motion of Mr. Berkeley^
nearly all the members upon which were of one mind to begm
with, and which devoted itself with great assiduity to the
selection of evidence favouring the one object for which it had
been named. Times change, but some people do not change
with them, and when, on the suggestion of Mr. Hibbert, the
bill of Mr. John Abel Smith for restricting the sale of intoad-
qating liquors on Sunday was referred to a select committee,
the tactics of 1855 wore recurred to with an adroitness and a
pertinacity not to be mistaken. Still, had not the Govern-
ment acted the part of a wet-nurse, no skill on the part of
private members would have sufficed to crown these tactics
with a fleeting success. Mr. Smithes bill was marked by two
features — a suppression of all sale of liquors for consumption
on the premises (except along with meals in the Metropolitan
district), and a restriction of hours of sale for consumption off
the premises in all parts of England and Wales. Wlien this
bill was read a second time — which virtually affirmed the
principle of some further restriction of the Sunday drink
traffic — the nomination of a select committee was left to three
parties — ^to Mr. Smith, as the author of the bill; to Mr.
Locke, as the chief spokesman in opposition; and to the
Government, which professed to hold an attitude of impartial
observation. Mr. Smith nominated five members — ^himself,
and Messrs. Bright, Baines, Hibbert, and Horsfall — ^not
seeking for allies who even accorded vrith him as to the
desirableness of a distinction between selling for consumption
on and off the premises. Mr. Locke nominated himself and
Messrs. Berkeley, BoebucI:, Ejiatchbull-Hugessen, and Evans.
The Government, with professions of the strictest fairness^
nominated Sir J. Fergusson, Colonel Fane, Captain Stanley^
Mr. Malcolm, and Mr. Yorke. But it was not long in
appearing that the moral weight of the Government five would
be cast, from the first, against the purpose of the bill. The
rejection, contrary to general usage, of Mr. Smith as chair-
man, in fiGkVOur of Sir J. Fergusson, was an indication not to
be misread; and as Mr. Bright seldom attended the meetings
of the committee^ the tendency of the nomination was not so
mncli betrayed as palpably disclosed^ in the attempt to exag-
The Select Committee, 1868. 195
-geraie every form of objection and depreciate every statement
of fact making in favour of restrictive legislation. The tone
of the questions proposed by Messrs. Roebuck^ Locke^ and
Knatchbull-Hugessen^ even more than the phraseology, dis-
played an assumption of numerical superiority and a confidence
in the final trial of strength on a division. The chairman
must be acquitted of any gross exhibition of party feelings
but his interrogatories were generally of a kind to weaken
the case in the bill's behalf^ and to his inspiration^ as will be
seen^ is owing one of the most indefensible passages of the
special report. Against this hostile current Messrs. Smith
and Baines ably contended, occasionally assisted by Messrs.
HorsfisJl and Hibbert, and slightly by Mr. Bright; and so
searching was their examination of the witnesses brought by
the opponents of the bill, that it speedily became manifest that
the witnesses were inflicting more damage on their own cause
than on the bill. The Select Committee met to take evidence
on eighteen days ; for the first time on April 22nd, and for
the last on Jime 25th. The witnesses examined were 59, to
whom 8,488 questions were addressed. Of these witnesses
88 were in favour of increased restrictions on the Sunday sale
of drink, and many of them cordially supported the stoppage
of all sale of liquor on that day. Of the 21 other witnesses
four were persons officially connected with licensed victuallers'
associations, and one was Mr. Berkeley himself. Such was
the weight of the evidence in favour of further restrictions,
that it must have deeply impressed the committee had it been
composed of persons coming to the question with unbiassed
minds. But there were members of the committee beyond
the reach of evidence, however cogent and conclusive. Having
ears they heard not, having mmds they apprehended not;
and nothing could more signally demonstrate the almost
resistless stress of the testimony actually adduced than the
fact that, when the committee deliberated on June 25th, a
motion submitted by Mr. Roebuck, alleging that 'further
legislation of a restrictive character is not required,' was
carried by a majority of one only, in opposition to an amend-
ment by Mr. Hibbert, affirming that 'an earlier closing of
public-houses on Sunday evenings will be attended with public
advanti^;' nor would this slender majority have been
obtained had not Mr. Bright, the only member absent, not
arrived at the House until after this decision was taken.
Subsequently a report drawn up by Mr. Knatchbull-Hugessen
was adopted, with some alterations ; in preference to one pro-
posed bvMr. John Abel Smith for which the votes of Messrs.
SttneSj Hibbertj and Horsfall were tendered in addition to
196 Swnday Drink^SeUing <md
his own. Having toadied upon these reports^ we sliall brieflj
sketcli the purport of the evidence contribated by each of the
witnesses examined.
The report of the majority^ as finally adopted^ consists of
eight paragraphs^ and occupies less than two pages printed
in the largest type. While cautiously moderate in tone^ it
avoids all close dealing with the opposite case^ and leaves the
reader to wade through the * evidence' as best he may, if
his patience and perseverance do not desert him in the effort*
The first paragraph admits the existence of ' a considerable
feeling in favour of further restriction upon the sale of intoxi-
cating liquors on Sundays ' in ' certain parts of the country,
and especially in some of the large towns in the north of
England/ as proved by ' the evidence of witnesses conversant
with the state of opinion in those communities and claiming^
specially to represent the working classes, by the reports of
public meetings held upon the subject, and by the returns of
many canvasses made . in large towns with the view of ascer-
taining the sentiments of the inhabitants upon this question /
but, in paragraph two, the committee 'observe that great
caution must be exercised in affixing a value to the results
of any such canvass. Although no imputations of dishonesty
rest upon the canvassers, it has been proved to your committee
that in many instances the canvass has been of a partial nature,
and does not adequately convey the real sense of the com-
munity whose opinions it professes to represent.' The epithet
'partial' here constitutes this sentence one of those ambiguous
phrases which Archbishop Whately has marked as the favourite
weapons of sophistry. It may mean ' partial ' in the sense
of 'selected for a purpose,' or 'partial' as distinguished
from universal. A canvass to which the first sense could be
affixed would be justly discredited, but no such discredit could
attach to a canvass which was simply ' partial ' in the second
sense. But it was never found, or even insinuated, except in
regard to a few London workshops, that any canvass had
been 'partial' in the evil sense ; and if — as was abundantly
shown — ^the canvasses made were complete in themselves, and
of a really representative character, their value as evidence
was of the veiy highest order capable of being adduced. The
committee add : ' Moreover, it is evident that a canvass con-
ducted by persons whose object is to obtain a particular
expression of opinion is not one of a character to command
such implicit confidence as one conducted by more impartial
persons.' But impartial persons sufficiently interested to
bear the trouble and expense of such canvasses are rarely to
be found, and the opponents of Sunday closing have never
The Select Committee, 1868. 197
exhibited any desire to contribute a moiety of the cbarges
incident to sach investigations. The committee dismiss the
canvasses by not recognising them as proof of such 'a
fBneral demand' in favour of restriction 'as should induce
krliament to disregard those other considerations which lead
to a different conclusion.' These 'other considerations' are
toQched upon in the five subsequent paragraphs. First of all
comes the charge of 'serious inconvenience' to 'a very
large number of persons against whom no complaint whatever
is alleged/ and while 'great discontent' would prevail
among such persons^ ' it by no means follows that a commen-
surate benefit would result with regard to the class against
whom such restrictions would be especially directed.' It is
alleged that ' those who drink to excess form a very small
percentage of the whole number of persons who make use of
public-houses upon a Sunday, and it is probable that many
of these persons, if deprived of their present facilities for
obtaining liquor, would have recourse to drinking in private
houses and to various methods of evading the law.' It is
observable that this stylo of objection might have been just
as pertinently plied in opposition to the proposal of the exist-
ing restrictions now in force ; and that this was perceived,
though dimly, by the author of this report, appears from what
he subjoins : ' For, however beneficial may be the results of
restriction within certain limits, its enforcement to such an
extent as to cause any violent interference with the habits of
the people has a tendency to create a discontent which is sure
to be foUowed by evasion, the law is brought into disrepute,
and effects are not unfrequently produced the very reverse
and opposite of those intended by the Legislature.' So
might it have been said, and probably was said, by those who
regarded the Sunday morning closing with aversion. It is
worthy of some notice that the draft report, as it first stood,
ascribed these prospective evils to legislation ' in the direc-
tion' of Mr. Smith's bill; but this was amended, against the
votes of its five stoutest opponents — Messrs. Boebuck, Locke,
Berkeley, Ejiatchbull-Hugessen, and Yorke — ^by substituting
the words ' to the extent contemplated by the bill,' and so
iar relieving the report from such an objection as applicable
to any further restrictions. Paragraph four expresses the
opinion that there would bo ' great diflBculty ' in enforcing the
restrictions proposed in the bill, but no special reference is
made, except to the clause which snggcstcd a relaxation in
London of the prohibition against all drinking on the premises
hj allowing liquor to be consumed along with a bona fde
meaL If Mr. Smith admits the force of the objection, he will
198 Sunday DrinJc- Selling and
remove this exception from the next edition of his bill. In-
paragraph five the committee allude to the apparent improba-
bility of any settlement of the question upon the basis of Mr.
Smithes bill. 'Most of the advocates of the measure openly
avow that tbey would accept it only as an instalment, and
many of them declare their desire to put a stop to the whole
retail trade in excisable liquors.' Hence the committee^ pity-
ing the people embarked in 'a recognised and legitimate
trade/ think it unjust that they should be embarrassed ' and
their property depreciated in value by constant attempts to
impose upon them restrictions which do not appear to be
demanded by any urgent public necessity.' This is a very
pretty objection of the class that assume as proved the thing
requiring proof; nor is it easy to perceive how the committee
propose to prevent that depreciation in the value of drinking-
house property which proceeds, they tell us, from these constant
' attempts ' at further restrictions. Are these ' attempts ' to
be prohibited ? If not, the depreciation must clearly go on.
Either the reasoning or language of the report is here a little
unsteady. The committee suggest, as ' a question worthy of
consideration,' whether liquor dealers should not be allowed
to take out licences for six days at a reduced rate. Paragraph
eight is the one added to the original draft report on the
motion of the chairman, and is in these terms : ' The bene-
ficial working of the Public-house (Scotland) Acts, 1854-62,
which has been declared by a royal commission, and of which
evidence has been given before your committee, does not in
their opinion establish any proof that a law similar or
approaching to it in strictness would be either acceptable or
expedient in England. For even those witnesses who spoke
to the success of the Scotch law admitted that there was so
remarkable a difference between the habits of the English and
those of the Scotch people in their use of public-houses, that
your conmiittee are of opinion that no trustworthy inference
could be drawn from the fact of that success.' In assenting
to the introduction of this additional paragraph, the opponents
of Mr. Smith's bill charmingly outwitted themselves ; for they
have deliberately assured die country that the Forbes-Mac-
kenzie Act of 1853 (not 1854) and the Amendment Act of
1862 have been a success, and that therefore, as respects
Scotland, not the shadow of a reason exists for any attempt
to repeal or modify those enactments I Messrs. Roebuck,
Locke, and Berkeley have given their express imprimatur to
an entire Sunday closing act for Scotland, and their effort to
set up such a difference between England and Scotland as to
prevent the success of that act fr>om being quoted in advocacy
The Select Committee, 1868. 199
of a similar one for England^ is too much of a tweedledum
assnmption to stand a moment's scrutiny. There is no sucli
'remarkable difference' between English and Scotcli as has
any intrinsic bearing on legislation against Sunday tippling,
still less is the alleged difference a substantial reason against
proposals, such as those of Mr. Smith, which evade the dinner
ana supper beer difficulty — ^peculiar to England — ^in conceding
all the facilities required. The seventh paragraph admits that
drunkenness is to be found to a considerable extent both on
Sundays and other days, 'yet the admission appears to be
general that the present law is working well, and that under
ite operation a great diminution of drunkenness has taken
place. From this fact it has been argued that further restric-
tions would lead to further diminution ; but, having regard to
the experience of the past, and to the agitation consequent upon
the passingof a less stringent measure than the present in 1854^
which measure was repealed in the following year, your com-
mittee are inclined to believe that the safe limit of restrictive
legislation has been reached, and that further measures in
the same direction would be unwise and injudicious.' It was
proposed to omit the words after ' believe,' and substitute for
them 'restrictive legislation to the extent proposed by this
Irill.^ This amendment, moved by Mr. Evans, was supported
by five other members and opposed by six, and there being
a ' tie,' the chairman declared himself in favour of retaining
the original words ; so that, in fact, the opinion of the com-
mittee in opposition to all further restrictions has been
declared by a majority of one only. The reference to the bill
of 1854 is both disingenuous and misleading; for the agita-
tion against that measure was solely a publican's movement,
and though it was technically repealed, several hours of the
additional restrictions imposed by it were re-included in the
repealiug act. The committee add : ' The praiseworthy exer^
tions of the advocates of temperance must not be under-.
valued. These have, no doubt, materially contributed to tha
diminution of drunkenness, and simultaneously with these
exertions, and the salutary influence exercised by the ministers
of religion, the opening in several of our large towns of parks
and other places wherein fresh air and innocent recreation
may be obtained by the working classes upon Sunday, has
drawn many of them from public-house associations, and induced
them to spend their only leisure day in a manner more advan-
tageous to themselves and to their families. Other causes
have likewise contributed to this desirable result.' So that,
this committee being witness, it is a desirable thing for the
working classes to be found absent from public-houses ; yet
200 Sunday DrinJc-Selling and
these placeSj whose existence is absolutely dependent on a
legal privilege, are not to be circumscribed in the evil asso-
ciations which they cast around hundreds of thousands on the
only leisure day they possess ! The seventh paragraph adverts
to the signs of social progress ; and as the upper and middle
classes are more temperate than formerly, the committee hope
' as the working classes also advance in self-improvement, and
are actuated by that self-respect which is engendered
by improved education, the vice of drunkenness will gradually
disappear without the necessity of further coercive measures
on the part of the Legislature/ The hope that a hundred
and fifty thousand places of public resort, whose associations
are confessedly dangerous and injurious, will cease to exert
the influence which has appertained to them from time imme-
morial, may be amiable, but is certainly one of the vainest to
which any body of legislators could have given expression ;
and it is a singular oversight on the part of the committee
that they should have failed to perceive that to lessen the
power of the drinking-shop for evil, is one of those methods
by which the object they desiderate may be most efficiently
attained. What would they have said of an argument, con-
structed on their own model, in favour of legalising or per-
mitting bull-baiting, cock-fighting, and a hundred other kinds
of debasing amusement, this argument finishing up with the
hope that the spirit of self-respect and improvement would
preserve the people generally from contamination ? It is the
standing device of all obstructionists to reform to plead that
we are going on very nicely already, and that sudden changes
will lead to disturbance and incur the hazard of reaction.
The trick has now been played out in its relation to political
reform, but social reformers will still have to meet and drive
it back while advancing step by step in their triumphal
course.
Turning from the Seport of the majority to that which was
proposed by Mr. Abel Smith, we find ourselves in an atmo-
sphere at once bracing and transparent. This report, extend-
ing over nearly twelve pages, is not only ten times loneer than
the other, but presents an analysis of the evidence, classified
under the four branches of the committee's inquiry — 1st, the
influence of legislation already restricting the period for selling
intoxicating liquors, especially on Sunday ; 2nd, the extent
to which intemperance and social demoralisation are still in-
duced by the Sunday traffic in strong drink, and their probable
reduction by legislative action ; 3rd, the measure of acquies-
cence and support on the one hand, or of disapproval and
opposition on the other, which additional h'mitations on the
The Select Committee, 1868. 201
Sanday traffic in strong drinks wonld receive from tlie public
generally and tlie working classes in particular ; 4th^ tlie
nature and force of the objections entertained by those who
oppose further restrictions. These points are carefully and even
elaborately discussed^ and rays of light are directed, sometimes
in a perfect flood, upon every ramification of the cardinal
question at issue. After showing, under the first head, that
restrictive measures have already operated with great advantage^
even where they have embraced complete Sunday prohibition,
it is justly remarked that the facts adduced ' are a complete
answer to simply abstract arguments against a restrictive
policy (such as the right of a person to do what he pleases,
unless in so doing he directly produces some perceptible mis-
chief) ; arguments which are usually so advanced without a
perception on the part of those who use them, that they are as
available against the degrees of restriction already in force,
and confessedly of great value, as they are against other
degrees of restriction which may be desired on the ground of
the general weal.' Under the secpnd head, it is conclusively
proved that to test Sunday drunkenness by the number of
police charges is delusive and absurd, and that immense mis-
chief is efiected by public-house customs and company, even
where the frequenters are not classed among incapable or
disorderly drunkards. Taking SOs. as the average profits of
the Sunday trade of every public-house, and adding a fifth for
every beerhouse, an annual profit of £6,260,000 is arrived at ;
'and it is impossible to suppose that this enormous sum [to say
nothing of the more enormous amount expended and not
counted as profit] can be obtainable, so much of it from the
working class, without serious detriment to the domestic com-
fort of their wives and children.' The bad effect of Sunday
drinking on week-day industry is also illustrated, and the
Beport observes — ^The inference suggested by evidence of
the character above cited — that further restrictive legislation
is admissible and desirable — ^was strongly advanced by many
of the witnesses themselves. The opposite sentiment was^
indeed, expressed by several magistrates and the chief con-
stable of Wolverhampton, but no satisfactory reason was
assigned for an opinion which resembles rather a foregone
conclusion than a deduction from a body of well-established
facts. Nothing was elicited in examination to prove that the
limits of judicious legislation had been reached, or that a
power operating for good up to the existing boundary would
cease to act, or act in a reverse direction, if that boundary
should become in any degree extended.' On the third head —
the probable popularity or otherwise of further restrictions—
202 Sunday Drink' Selling and
a mass of evidence is marslialled^ including the testimony of
witnesses, the results of canvasses, and the aggregate collec-
tion of public petitions ; and it is then pertinently remarked,
^Imputations cast upon the petitions, such as having been
signed by children, or as bearing fictitious signatures, have
in no single instance been estabushed. It may be sufficient
to remark of petitions on the other side, that they have inva-
riably been projected and circulated by persons pecuniarily
interested in this inquiry, and do not aflford any evidence of a
deep or wide-spread public sentiment against the curtailment
of the Sunday liquor-traffic/ Under the fourth head, a whole
bevy of objections against fresh Sunday legislation are intro-
duced, one by one, only to be dismissed, after examination,
as mere pretenders to a worthiness they cannot reasonably
claim. This portion of the report will be found specially
useful where the objections enumerated are frequently quoted
as if they were possessed of unanswerable force. It is edify-
ing to see the ass dragged out from under the lion's skin ;
and it may be hoped that the exhibition will dissipate the
error of those who have mistaken the donkey's bray for the
lion's roar. This work of detection and exposure completed,
three conclusions are announced as suggested by a careful
review of the evidence laid before the committee. '1. That
extended restrictions on the Sunday sale of alcoholic liquors
would result in sensible public benefits, including a diminu-
tion of drunkenness and crime, and an improved condition of
the homes of the people more directly afiected by them. 2 . That
to realise these benefits no corresponding drawbacks would be
incurred, and no serious inconveniences occasioned to the
sober and respectable of all classes. 3. That the restrictions
required to obtain these results would be in accordance with
public sentiment, and, therefore, that nothing in the way of
popular reaction may reasonably be feared.' The whole report
concludes with a recommendation ' that in the coming session
of Parliament a Bill should be introduced, with a view to
legislation of the character here approved.' Discretion, we
think, was shown by Mr. Abel Smith in confining this
recommendation to some change of the law without indicating
its particular complexion ; and it is an omen of some signifi-
cance that the Times^ in commenting on both Eeports, con-
fesses its sympathy with the object advocated in the minority
Report, and admits that in its pages several of the strong posi-
tions of the majority of the committee have been successfully
controverted and overturned. To those of our readers who
may not have access to the bulky blue book containing the full
Minutes of the evidence presented to the Select Committee, it
The Select Ckmrniitee, 1868. 20$
may be usefal to have tersely stated the tenor of the testi*
mony adduced by each of the witnesses as they successively
mpeared. On April 22nd, Sir Eichard Mayne and Sir
lliomas Henry were examined. Sir Bichard Mayne, as chief
commissioner of the Metropolitan Police (whose duties extend
to about sixteen miles round Charing Cross, and embrace a
population of 3,452,246*), explained the changes of the law in
regard to Sunday drink- selling, and produced statistical tables
of the apprehensions for drunkenness from 1830-40 and from
1858-67 inclusive. In respect to the Public-house Closing
Act (from one to four a.m,), he said he did not remember any
exception being called for in favour of trades requiring night
work — 'I was told, in fact, that it was not necessary,' — a
notable commentary on the outcry at first raised of the sufier-
ings which night workmen would undergo if access to the
public-house were denied them between one and four in the
morning. He could not say whether the greater number of
drunken cases originated in public-houses or beershops. He
believed the police honestly discharged their duty in the ex-
ecution of the present Closing Acts. He did not think that
closing at ten o'clock on Sunday would inconvenience excur-
sionists, as they could be served at the railway stations as
travellers. His general objection to restrictions on the sale
of drink was their application so partially to the difierent
classes of the community. He believed the Wilson-Patten
Act was repealed owing to complaints preferred by licensed
victuallers, principally and prominently, but he could not give
any specific instances of complaints from other classes. One
evil eflTect of restriction, he said, had been the opening of
' Tom-and- Jerry shops,' which he seemed to regard as unli-
censed houses, though the term is popularly applied to low
beershops. Having ascribed an increase of unlicensed drink-
ing to Wilson-Patten's Act, he was asked why he had stated
an opposite opinion before Mr. Berkeley's committee of 1855 ?
and to this inquiry he could only answer, ^ If I said so, I
thought so at the time, but I do not remember it now.' But,
in 1855, his testimony was explicit enough (Question 1027),^ —
' I am not aware that drink is sold in greater quantities in
ooflTee-houses than formerly. The opinion of the superinten-
dents is that there is not more drinking in unlicensed houses
* Within the same area there are 6,549 public-houses and 4,421 beershops, an
aggregate of 10,970 — with a shop frontage of at least thirty-three miles — probably
fortj or fifty miles. With such a licensed machinery in daily and nightly opera-
tion, tending to impoverish, corrupt, and crirainahse the people of London, why
■bould we wonder at its regiments of criminals, its army of paupers, and its hosts
of neglected children ?
204 Stmday Drink-Sellitig and
tlian there was formerly/ In reference to the effect of
drunkenness, Sir Richard Mayne gives this opinion : — ' I am
sure that it produces a great deal of crime, both directly and
indirectly. It leads directly to crime, disorders, assaults, and
violence, and it also leads to the commission of offences against
property immediately and indirectly by poverty, and it leads
to a reckless, dissolute state of morals/ On the paucity of
apprehensions for drunkenness as compared with the popula-
lation, a cardinal objection to further restriction. Sir Richard
confessed that ' drunkenness is a very vague word in police
understanding,^ so vague, indeed, as to make it ridiculous to
measure its extent by the number of dead-drunk and disorderly-
drunk persons who are consigned to the police cell for want
of a better lodging. Sir Thomas Henry, chief magistrate of
Bow-street, expressed himself as opposed to all restrictive
measures, past and present, except the week-day early closing
Act ; as his theory was that drunkenness was a midnight vice.
He did not believe that opening public-houses on Sunday
morning would increase drunkenness ; and as the result of a
visit paid to public-houses, when he was first appointed a
magistrate, he gave it as his opinion that a majority of the
landlords discouraged drunkenness ; and he had always
observed, in the cases that had come before him, that the land-
lords were in the habit of saying, ' Now, my man, you have
had enough.' Self-denying landlords ! how wonderful thatj
with so large a staff of temperance guardians, there should be
any public-house intemperance at all ! On April 24th, Messrs.
Burcham, Woolrych, and Ellison, police magistrates of South-
wark, Lambeth, and Worship-street were examined. Mr.
Burcham believed drunkenness was decreasing, but had no
returns to adduce in confirmation. He believed certain
restrictions on the sale of liquor to be reasonable, but was
opposed to further restrictions ; and when asked why f could
only answer, ' Because I do not think they would be of any
service.' Restrictions were not injurious ' unless carried too
far,' but what the limit was he ' really could not say.' Mr.
Woolrych was opposed to additional restrictions, and believed
Sunday drunkenness had diminished, but could give no
returns, and he allowed that further limitations on the sale
would probably cause a diminution of drunkenness in spite
of ' private drinking, drinking by associated bodies, and so
on.' Being pressed on this point by Mr. Locke, he said, ' I
think they would get drink somehow, but not to the same
extent that they can now get it.' Mr. Ellison was more
cautious than his fellow-magistrates in venturing any opinion
to the effect of further restrictions ; he appeared in doubt
Ths Seled Conrnittee, 1868. 205
on most of the points presented^ except as to the seriomi
&ct of very nearly one-half the cases of drunkenness brought
before him being cases of drunken women; to which he
added, ' I should rather think that drunkenness is increasing
among women/ On April 29th, Major Greig, Captain Palin,
and Mr. Jackson, chief constables of Liverpool, Manchester,
and Sheffield, were examined. Major Greig ^ve strong and
forcible evidence in favour of the bill. He believed that it
would diminish intemperance, and be supported by public
opinion. Inconvenience would be felt by some, but the
general good should be paramount. He considered drunken-
ness in Liverpool was on the increase, and especially among
women, and that rather more than three-fourths of the criminal
acts of the country were attributable to that vice. The extent
of that evil was not to be estimated by the number of appre-
hensions. He thought the women would be very much in
favor of greater restriction — 'it would make a very great
difference to their own homes.' A very considerable amount
of the working-class earnings is spent in public-houses on
Saturday night and Sunday, 'and is diverted from the clothing
and education of the family.' Captain Palin, chief of the
Manchester police, had no doubt that Sunday drinking to
excess prevailed to a large extent in Manchester. He could
not say whether a limitation of Sunday drink-selling would be
popular or not, but he did ' not think it would be a very
serious inconvenience.' Even the decent people who resort
to public-houses would be ' reconciled to it in a short time,
and would not care for it.' Further restriction ' might dimin-
ish drunkenness, and probably would.' Mr. Jackson, chief
constable of Sheffield, had previously been chief constable of
Oldham for nearly ten years, and had found the Wilson- Patten
Act ' diminish drunkenness very considerably ' in that town.
Drunkenness had decreased in Sheffield, but not among
women. Those who would object to a shortening of the hours
on Sunday would, in Sheffield, ' be not only a minority, but
the minority would be small.' On May 1st, the witnesses
examined were Mr. Glossop, chief constable of Birmingham,
Thos. Avery, Esq., mayor of Birmingham, Arthur Bigge, Esq.,
stipendiary magistrate of Brighton, and the Rev. Dr. Garrett, of
Manchester. Mr. Glossop stated that at a very large meeting,
held in the Town Hall for the advocacy of the Permissive Bill,
' there was an immense number of working men in the body
of the hall, and they all voted for the Permissive Bill,' and the
feeling of those working men was, he thought, a fair picture
of the better class of working men in Birmingham. The
women of Birmingham were very much in favour of further
206 Sunday Drinh^Sellmg cmd
restrictions^ and in illustration of tlie view that even the
publicans would generally be willing to close if all were com-
pelled^ lie stated that 1,600 other shopkeepers had been
keeping open, but that a vigorous effort to compel them to
dose had been completely successful, the result being ' very
beneficial to the town — ^it looks like another place, it is so
respectable and orderly/ Restriction of Sunday drink-selHng
would not cause the same discontent now as it once did, ana
would be 'advantageous/ The discontent would be limited
'to a few people '—' those who are always thirsty' — 'they
would have to go to the pump/ Question by Mr. Locke : ' Do
you think that that would do as well?' Mr. Glossop: 'It
would keep them sober, at any rate ; it would keep them out
of our hands.' Thos. Avery, Esq., believed that the terms of
the bill would form ' a moderate and reasonable restriction/
He had presided at a very large meeting, called by the United
Kingdom Alliance, and the working men, who constituted a
large proportion of those present, were unanimously in favenr
of a Permissive Bill. From careful observation, he believed
that ' pubUc opinion is advancing in the direction of additional
restrictions upon the liquor trade. As we all know, it is purely
a question of degree, and all statistics are in favour of the
opinion that restriction upon the facilities diminishes drunken-
ness.' Arthur Bigge, Esq., was strongly in favour of the bill.
He explained much public-house drunkenness by the remark :
' People go there and meet their friends, and then the end of it
is they get drunk, because the door happens to be open. People
who go to clubs go there for totally different reasons. They go
to the public-house perhaps with a good intention in the first
instance, and then gradually slope into drunkenness/ ' Fur-
ther restrictions would prevent drunkenness, and it is a thing
to be desired.' The respectable working class in Brighton
were, he thought, in favour of further restrictions. He did
not think the bill would produce the least disorder or confusion
in Brighton—' not the least in the world.' The Rev. Dr.
Garrett gave evidence drawn from his experience as a clergy-
man in different parts of England, as a chaplain, and as havmg
made himself acquainted with public opinion on this particular
question. When vicar of St. Paul, Cornwall, it was found, by
strict examination of the parish books, that for the previous
twenty years, eight out of every ten cases of pauperism and
crime were traceable to drink ; and it was further calculated
that if drinking could have been stopped, nine-tenths of the
expense of pauperism and crime to which the parish was at
that time put, and would be put for the next ten years, would
have been prevented. The influence of Sunday drinking on
The Select Ca^nmittee, 1868. 207
female virtue and on Sunday schools was exceedingly per-
nicious. He believed that 'a very large majority of the
iTVorking classes are anxious for the entire closing of public-
houses on Sunday,' and this was the expression of sentiment
on the part of deputations appointed to wait upon Mr. Glad-
stone and Earl Derbv. Br. Garrett^s subsequent statement,
iinit Mr. Smith's bill had a much larger boay of supporters
than the entire Sunday closing movement, is not, in our
opinion, in accordance with credible evidence. The results
of the canvasses, wherever a comparison has been instituted,
and a glance at the 903,987 signatures for Mr. Somes's bill in
1868 (which was more than a Sunday bill), as compared with
the 340,000 signatures for Mr. Smith's bill in 1868, are
suggestive of anything but a numerical superiority of those
who wish for partial Sunday closing over those who would
prefer the total stoppage of all Sunday traffic in intoxicants.
On May 4th, the witnesses examined were Archbishop Manning,
the Rev. Newman Hall, and the Rev. Cyril Page. Archbishop
Manning furnished very useful evidence of the good effects of
the ecclesiastical Sunday closing rule put in force by two
Irish Roman Catholic prelates — ^the Archbishop of Cashol and
the Bishop of Ferns. He prefaced this evidence by his
personal conviction that the Legislature 'has multiplied the
fi^nlities and the temptations to drunkenness,' and that both
working men and their wives would be glad of a law that
would at least limit ):hese temptations. He would not be
a&aid of such a law ' even in London,' nor did he think that
the enforcement of a measure like the Forbes-Mackenzie Act
would occasion great difficulty in England. When asked by
Mr, Locke whether it was not important first to improve the
dwellings of the working classes and afford them more recrea-
tion on Sunday, the Archbishop replied, ' No, I think not ; I
think that in order of time this is the more urgent, and I think
in the order of moral mischief it is the more vital.' Further
asked, whether it would not add to the inconvenience of the
miserably-housed to pass a bill like Mr. Smith's, ho answered^
* I do not think that the word inconvenience is the one which
I used ; I said, I think, that the bright fire and the compara-
tive cleanliness of a drinking-house is a temptation to a man
to desert his home and his family. I do not think that that
deprivation ought to be a subject of complaint by a father, or
husband, or any man. • . It appears to me that a house
which is sufficient for a man's wife and children, he ought not
to judge as insufficient for himself.' The Rev. Newman Hall,
in referring to the state of London south of the Thames on
Sunday evenings, observed, 'I consider that public-houses
208 Sunday Drink^Selling and
being open on Sunday night, when the masses of the popula-
tion are turning out, to be most incalculably injurious morally^
and that there can be no wonder at the prevalence of licen-
tiousness when we have those places open for drinking at
such times/ In pointing out how the drinking habits of men
invade the religious liberties of their wives, he said, ' The
greatest impediment to the progress of religion among us is
the influence of the public-house ;' and having detailed the
religious and secular agencies in connection with Surrey
Chapel ' to serve as a counter attraction to the public-house/
he added, ' but we find that the facilities afforded to the
population for drinking are such that they interfere with every
effort we put forth to elevate the people around/ The Rev.
Cyril Page, incumbent of Christ Church, Westminster, wished
the public-houses to be closed during the hours of the evening
service. On May 6th, Duncan McLaren, Esq., M.P. for Edin-
burgh, the Rev. V. M. White, LL.D., of Liverpool, and
Robertson Gladstone, Esq., J.P., of Liverpool, were examined.
Mr. M'Laren^s evidence had respect to the operation of the
Forbes-Mackenzie Act, which he showed to have been, in an
anti-criminal point of view, a legislative success seldom wit-
nessed, and he asserted his belief (contrary to the letter and
spirit of the paragraph in the committee^s report afterwards
suggested by Sir J. Fergusson) that similar benefits might be
expected from a similar law if applied to England. The Rev.
Dr. White's evidence was conclusive as to the willingness of
the people of Liverpool to welcome legislation much more
extensive than that proposed by Mr. Abel Smith ; and in this
he was corroborated by Mr. Robei-tson Gladstone. The
witnesses examined on May 11th were D. Lupton, Esq., J.P.,
the Rev. Edward Jackson, and Mr. George Walker, all of
Leeds. Mr. Lupton proved that in Leeds the intelligent
operatives were in favour of Sunday closing, and that both to
workmen and masters the sale of drink on Sunday was an
unmitigated curse. The Rev. E. Jackson, as a district clergy-
man, strengthened the case presented by Mr. Lupton ; and
Mr. Walker, as a quondam journeyman bootmaker, and now
employer in that trade, made some trenchant remarks, of
which one must suffice as a specimen of many: 'All the
means that I have seen tried for thirty years hitherto have
been inadequate ; new drunkards are continually being manu-
factured from our boys and our girls, and to make a man a
drunkard is to make him one of the most expensive creatures
that there is almost in the kingdom.' Mr. Joseph Hume
would have bristled up at this presentation of the drunkard
under an ' expensive ' aspect. On May 13th Mr. S. 0. Jowett
The Select Oammitteej 1868. 209
and the Bev. S. A. Steintlial were under examination. Mr.
Jowett, as superintendent of the Bradford Town Mission^
spoke with authority on some of the most important points
of the inquiry, and Mr. Steinthal, besides giving excellent
information at first hand, and laying before the committee the
returns of extensive canvasses, was drawn into a colloquy with
Mr. Locke on the superior value of abstainers' lives in insu-
rance offices. The hon. member for Southwark made a
ludicrous display of his unacquaintance with this subject by
inquiring, 'Are not the immoderate drinkers and total
abstainers both objectionable lives in an insurance office?'
though he naively confessed in the next question that in the
office of which he is a director he had never hoard of 'anybody
of that sort ' (abstainers) having been insured ! On May 18th,
Mr. J. S. Eldridge, clerk to the Southampton magistrates,
Jas. Barlow, Esq., mayor of Bolton, Mr. Alderman Mackie, of
Manchester, and Mr. J. T. Enright, ex-chief of the South-
ampton police, appeared as witnesses, and all in favour of
restrictions on the present hours of Sunday sale of liquors.
Mr. Barlow's evidence, concerning the popular feeling in
Bolton, and as a largo employer of labour, was exceedingly
pertinent, and not less so was Mr. Alderman Mackie's demon-
stration that even a largo wholesale and retail drink-seller
could be an earnest supporter of entire Sunday closing. May
20th offisred a strong reinforcement of favourable witnesses in
the Rev. J. Flather, of Sheffield, C. Bushell, Esq., a Cheshire
magistrate, John Howard, Esq., the great agricultural imple-
ment maker of Bedford, Mr. G. Freshwater, a workman in his
employ, and the Rev. T. de Vine, of Newcastle-under-Lyme.
Mr. Flather asserted that the predominant feeling in Sheffield
was in favour of the bill; Mr. Bushell acutely replied to
Yarious objections ; Mr. Howard gave important evidence as
mayor and master ; Mr. Freshwater spoke with a working-
man's knowledge of things as they are ; and Mr. de Vine
reported the result of a canvass in the town ho represented.
On May 26th, Mr. George Potter, of Trades Union celebrity,
R. S. Newall, Esq., mayor of Gateshead, Mr. S. Eliott, of Ply-
mouth, and the Rev. G. M. Murphy, of London, were examined.
Mr. Potter's declaration that the cream of the working men
of London and the country were in favour of greater restric-
tions made an impression on Punchy who re-stated the fact
next week for the information of his ' beloved bungs.' Mr.
Newall spoke for the people of Gateshead ; Mr. Eliott witnessed
to the state of sentiment in Plymouth and Cornwall ; and Mr.
Murphy covered in his evidence a wide surface of interesting
&ct8. At the next sitting of the conmiittee. May 28th, Mr. T.
Vol. 11.— ^b. 48. K
210 Sunday Drink- Selling cmd
Smith, secretaiy of the Licensed Victuallers' Protectioa
Society, of London, contradicted a statement of Mr. Murphy^
that he had admitted the complicity of his friends with the
Hyde Park riots ; and then evidence for the bill was given by
Mr. Joseph Leicester, of London, Mr. W. Cockburn, foreman of
Messrs. Pease's mines, in Yorkshire, the Rev. B. Mathews, of
Bristol, and the Rev. G. W. M'Cree, of London. Mr. Leicester
spoke of the evils inflicted on the most skilled workmen in
his trade, the glassblowers, by public-house associations ; and
Mr. Locke and Mr. KnatchbuU-Hugessen, overleaping the
limits of the committee's inquiry, entered into a sort of
disputation with the witness, out of which the Parliamentary
interlocutors came second-best, as any one may see who reads this
portion of the Minutes. Mr. Leicester aptly baffled the tactics
of his questioners when attempting to draw him into contra-
dictions. When asked if he was in favour of the Permissive
Bill, he said, 'Decidedly I am.' He replied to another question,
that the localities were the proper tribunals to judge of all
such cases; and being then pressed, ' If that is your opinion,
how do you advocate a bill by which the central Legislature
imposes a restriction upon the opinion of localities?' he
answered, ' Because it is simply a reflex of public opinion even
then ' — thus neatly exposing the sophism that lurked under
the assumption that a general Sunday measure would be
hostile to local sentiment. Mr. Cockburn dealt in facts that
could not be gainsayed as to the results of Sunday drinking; the
Rev. B. Mathews oflbred the statistics gathered from a canvass
of Bristol ; and Mr. M'Cree brought to bear on the inquiry a
fulness and exactness of knowledge concerning the state of
matters in London among the poor of all classes that
instructed, if it did not gratify, a majority of the committee.
On the 8th of June was commenced the examination of
witnesses avowedly hostile to the bill of Mr. Smith, the
witnesses for that day being Mr. R. M. Morrell and Mr. T.
Wintcrbotham. Mr. Morrell, who occasionally figures in
newspapers as the secretary of the Sunday League, was carefol
to state that he did not appear before the committee in any
official character, and little more was to be extracted from his
evidence besides the points that he had read the bill — which
he afterwards explained to mean that he hadn't read it, bnt
knew what it was — that he knew working men were greatly
opposed to restrictive measures, that the bill would be an
inconvenience to the people who listened to the Sunday bands
and to excursionists, and that the canvass returns were hnee
shams. In illustrating this last proposition he instanced a
canvass of St. Pancras m 1863, all his statements about whick
The Seled Oammittee, 1868. 211
were subsequentlj proved in a letter to the committee to be
the reverse of true. Mr. Winterbotham, as a licensed
victualler for thirty-six years and an ex-governor of the
Incorporated Society of Licensed Victuallers, testified to the
disfavour with which ' the trade ' entertained all proposals of
restrictive legislation, and endeavoured to show that certain
returns put in by Mr. Murphy were incorrect. On June 11th,
a Bhort explanation was given by Mr. Berkeley, M.P., respect-
ing the address he had received from 1,580 electors to support
Mr. Smith's bill, amongst whom, he admitted, ' were some of
the most respectable gentlemen in Bristol ' — ^which had been
followed by another address, with 4,000 signatures, asking
him to exercise his own judgment on the subject. The
examination of Mr. Winterbotham was then resumed, in the
course of which he endeavoured to show that the publican's
interest was diametrically opposed to drunkenness. ^ Expe-
rience teaches me that a drunkard is not employed one-third
of his time upon the average. Assuming, then, that we
receive from him the whole amount of his wages, he is really,
as a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence, not so serviceable
a customer to us as a man who legitimately and regularly
supplies his family with the articles in which we deal.' So
that, in Mr. Winterbotham' s ^essentially practical' view, sober
working men spend more than one-third of their earnings
on the publican's liquors, and are justified in so doing*
We know what the reference to the ' family ' means ; but we
can only hope to measure the horseleech rapacity of the baser
traffickers when we hear one of the superior dealers coolly
givo vent to such a statement, and consider it, withal, as a
vindication of his ' trade.' Mr. Alderman Fisher, of SheflSeld,
chairman of Mr. Boebuck's last election committee, declared
the feeling of that town to be against further restriction, but
had heard nothing of the workshop canvass lately made, and
' believed that if any one with good address asked a working
man to sign a petition he would sign it, though thinking
there was a strong feeling against it.' The Bev. G. M. Murphy
then gave evidence in support of the genuineness of the
returns he had previously put in, and was followed by Mr.
Jabez West, one of the canvassers employed. Mr. Boebuck
had intimated his intention of carrying this case up to the
bar of the House of Commons, but, after hearing Messrs.
Murphy and West, his tumid resolutions dissolved into air,
leaving not a rack behind. On June 15th, Mr. J. T. Bowland,
the publicans' canvasser, was examined, who simply proved
that a discrepancy existed between two canvasses — the Sunday
one carried out with printed forms, the publicans' by
11'.- -.rT;-*-'-:! -ic: ir- ::iz:ri . ; : ". -iTf- :.; _zs rr^icii: erteat;
b-: ',',",-: ^.I'iz.'.r.': stiTcii-ri:? :: :Jii= •srn.fSi ss :c t}:e extent
i: .S-iisT Li.rr.i::? :r.::r::v.:::i :r. GLifrcT Gr=~:i. and the
'::.-'::Tr:77*Li: ir ::i.iiirrji lir '• :." :rli=. era :: r-e a disgrace to
Kz.'j.ii'z. Li.-.V-rv. n'i'i-r :: viroiif-: :;r ilf r::i. is.f rubers who
w-rr-; r:;:p'-=;i::;: :!:- "lill :: Ij: -.Leir :!:?-: rrtir^ "wi:!! the least
ii --=-.:':,. ^" d-i:liT. Mr. J. T. r^'.iz:^. :- :'::e 5:olZ •:: a Bolton
-'"^*-r-"-r'-"- "^^^--^^i'-'lj -E^- iviT : :ir-; i :;■ disparage the
c-7: ;-:::.':;'; cf :"::e iiiV,r. J. Bir'-i-sr. E?:.. a-i zi^ie a varietv of
rr.^-^-Vii-rr.-.oL'.^ ?l= :: :lr :i::::uie •:: :b.-:- B-:I:on press on the
S ML iiv dr::.k r;-es:::i. i-i :L-:- oir.i:ia:-re cf ilr. PoDe. that
pr-yV-.-i L:-: ::::-rr uiirl:r.-j55 ::• sTpe^r '::r::re iho Select Com-
rn.r.-jv. Oi: J-ne Iri-i, Mr. M*Lir:-z., M.P., exr-JLiaed a point
ir. Li-. :.7ZL,:7 -ivii'L-nrr : C:*i:airL Serrave. chief of the Wolver-
h^'jiy.-.r^ p'/.ic?. criT? :ei::!n:nT ^:ji a tendency against
th-.- bill; Mr. Vr-roari-n. cli-rk cf :he Liverpool magistrateSj
opp'-v-yi fill .S'^ndi;.' rj*:rlc:::n; bu: ainiirted that the people
of Livorr;ooI d!! no: ali':?:- his vlv^s: and Mr. M. Beal and
Mr. J. Wilson, of ^helSel J. r-jsriied to what thev thought to
h'; th-'; pop'iiar fiToriivn in rhar town ti* the proposed measnre.
On Jun«; 22nd, Mr. Joseph Waihams, of Birmingham, president
of tho L'nited Towns' A52?cia:i:n and National Licensed
Vioiuailers' Defence League, embracing about 6,000 publicans
ro=jidiii;r in twenty-two to\rns, was examined, and, of course^
di-:.'ipproved of Mr. Smith's bill, but recommended a special
clan.s of polico-officors to be employed to watch public-houses
diiriri;^ tho prohibited hours, as the ordinary constables were
too oft'jii bribed to wink at violations of the law. After this
admin. lion hfj ouf^ht not to have trusted to the credulity of the
committee by stating, 'I do not think that any licensed
victuallers would look at the amount of business they do so
much as to the inconvenience to their neighbours' by further
Sunday re .strict ion ! In reference to the somewhat famous
interview between Mr. Bright and the Birmingham publicans,
lio said, ' Ho gave us some very excellent advice, which we
find wo cannot possibly carry out.' Mr. W. Aitken, a school-
master of Ashton-under-Lvne — ^from whom it was extracted
that he had been asked when sitting in a pubbc-house to
appear before the committee, the chief inviter being a publican-
was exceedingly dogmatic till a succession of questions bearing
on some antecedent events in his career brought his examina-
tion to a sudden close. Mr. W. Rea, of Stockport, deposed
to the inconvenience Mr. Smith's bill would occasion the
collectors of burial societies in that town. Mr. J. Senshallj
The Select Gonmittee, 1868. 213
of West Grorton, neap Manchester, professed to speak against
the bill as a Unitarian Sunday-school teacher, but was com-
pelled to admit that the annual assembly of the Unitarian
churches in Lancashire and Cheshire had just petitioned in
fisivour of it. On June 25th, Mr. George Candelet, secretary
of the Manchester and Salford Licensed Victuallers^ Associa-
tion, and secretary of the Provincial Licensed Victuallers'
Defence League, composed of 5,430 publicans, residing in
about thirty towns, was examined at considerable length, but
nothing new and true was elicited by the 250 questions asked^
except the admission that the friendly societies might satis-
factorily arrange their afiTairs if public-houses were not open
as at present on the Sunday.* The last witness was A. J.
Johnes, Esq., a man of note and influence in Wales, and a
County- court judge of great experience, who furnished the
committee with valuable statistical evidence as to the wishes
of the people, and offered important statements as to the
benefits resulting from the prohibitory policy of certain land-
lords in North Wales. Mr. Johnes having been dismissed—
and the majority of hon. members present did not care to protract
his examination — the committee decided, as we have before
remarked, by a majority of one, Mr. Bright being absent, to
report against further restriction. Subsequently, they have
BO reported; but whether their decision is tested by the
number and character of the witnesses, or by the texture and
quality of their testimony, it is impossible to regard it as
founded on the evidence submitted ; and as a body they come
fairly within the canon of Publius Syrus — made famous by
its adoption as the motto of the Edinburgh Review — Judex
damnatur cum nocens absolvitur — ^the judge himself is found
guilty when the culprit is set free. The nocens in this
particular case, appropriately represented by the Sunday drink
* Mr. Candelet succeeded, however, in inBulting Mr. J. A. Smith hy remarks
which were expunged from the official minutes, after drawing upon himself the
rebuke of the chairman. He also allowed it to be understood, in answer to Mr.
Berkeley's (question, that the Alliance was spending its funds on behalf of the
Sondaj closing movement, till a more correct, but still inaccurate, version of the
facts was extorted from him by Mr. Smith. Mr. Berkeley addressed him as ' an
old friend;' and remembering the remarkable genius displayed in 1855 by that
boD. member for putting forth as facts the most preposterous arithmetical fables,
it is not surprising that his *old friend,' in making use of a paper purporting to
show certain apprehensions for Sunday drunkenness, should nave referred to the
first column only, showing GOG cases of drunkenness alone, omitting the second
oolamn, showing 1,309 cases of drunkenness uith disorder, Mr. Candelet, when
pressed on the point, said the omission was not inlenticnal, but on a subject of so
moch momt^nt such an omission should have been scrupulously avoided ; and to the
last ho refused to admit that the second column was more important than the
first in showing the connection of the sale of intoxicating liquors with Sunday
mbusM.
214 The Preservation of Commons and Open Spaces.
traffic^ though released by a biassed tribunal^ can enjoy only a
temporary respite. In a court of Parliamentary inquiry, one
verdict of ' not guilty ' is not a final discharge ; and when the
cause recently closed is re-opened, as it must be before long,
another and truer finding will be delivered, vindicatory of
those public interests that have been too long sacrificed to the
shameful terror with which the liquor dealers have hitherto
inspired the professed representatives of the British nation.
THE PRESERVATION OF COMMONS AND OPEN
SPACES.
IT is painful to reflect upon the private greed which in so
many cases has been permitted to obliterate public rights
in our own country. Especially have the rights of common
ov(jr open spaces suffered ; aud inclosure after inclosure is still
being perpetrated in disregard, or in defiance, of them. The
apathy of the public upon most matters afiecting their social con-
dition is largely to blame in this matter. Had our forefathers
canjfuliy watched the slight encroachments made on their
rights of common, and taken measures to prevent their
repciiition, much of the mist that hangs about this portion of
our Ic^gal code would never have arisen. The mist, however,
JH by no means so dense as some people wish to make ifc
upp(;ar, and it is gradually clearing off. Still, much mis-
fit)pn;henHion exists on the part of the public as to the relative
rights of lords and commoners to the waste lands of manors;
wo will, thoroforo, endeavour to explain some circnmstanoes
conncjctod with their history.
During tho rule of the Anglo-Saxon kings, there was felt
to ho a want of cohesion of interests between the monarcli
and his subjcjcts. The latter certainly owed and gave
all(jgiiin(!c^ to his royal power, but that was all. There was
nono or littlo of that unanimity of sentiment and action which
cA)UHlil\iU\H tho power and strength of a nation, and withont
whi(:h a moMurcli is such only in name. To remedy this
unwIiolcjHoino Htato of things, and at the same time to recon-
/!iln Mm [MJtty (lifloronccs that were continually taking place,
fjoriain plots of land wore parcelled out and granted to the
moMfy influential supporters of the throne; the grant, neverthe-
loHM, was not unconditional, as the lord of the manor (fcr
Huch ho was thenceforth to be called) was compelled to under*
The Preservation of Commons and Open Spaces. 215
take certain duties in return for the favour shown to him. Ho
was the militaTy head of his district, as well as the dispenser
of justice. His duties in the latter capacity were rather
onerous, comprising the holding of three distinct courts. The
Court Leet took cognizance of criminal offences, and with the
exception of a few privileged persons, all residents were
obliged to attend it. The holding of this court was no doubt
a severe tax on the time of the lord of the manor, and it is
highly probable that he felt greatly relieved when the incubus
was taken from him and transferred to the justices of the
peace. The second court was the Court Baron, and related
only to freeholders and their rights. The third, called the
Customary Court, was exclusively connected with copyholders
and actions that might arise affecting their interests. It will
appear, therefore, that the duties of a lord of the manor were
not of such a shadowy nature as many people have considered ;
on the contrary, they involved a considerable amount of time
and attention, scarcely adequate, though, we should think, to
the value of the property with which the lord was endowed.
But apart from what may be regarded as the freehold of the
manor, and yet attached to it, were certain waste or common
lands which, though often originally of great extent, were
considered as almost valueless, because of their being wild
and uncultivated. The property in the soil of these wastes
was vested in the lord of the manor, subject to certain rights
of his tenants. These rights varied somewhat in different
manors, but generally consisted of common of pasture, which
is ' a right of taking a produce of land by the mouths of the
cattle ; ' common of estovers, or the right of cutting wood
for fuel, for making fences, and for the repair of the house
and implements of husbandry; common of turbary, or the
light of cutting turf for fuel ; and common of piscary, or the
right of fishing. While the rights of common exercised by the
freeholders exist by virtue of a direct grant made by the lord
of the manor at the time when they first entered into possession
of their estates, the rights of the copyholders are proved by
prescription, the supposition, however, being that originally
grants were made in their favour. But whether such be the
case or not, the existence of such rights would be taken as
proved if it could be shown that they had been exercised from
time immemorial, which, in law, means from the accession of
Bichard I. Even this it is thought would not be necessary,
as, cominff under the operation of the Prescription Act, a
proof of their uninterrupted use for thirty years would con-
stitute a sound legal claim.
There are some customs which from their very unreason-
r zftance,
- .n :f the
rr. This
r -.zJency
~ "^li::!! we
:.-!•' "■-■■'^*d in
. . - • :i "J, tho
- .-bill's
-.r 3: ruse
- - :":v?rv
? Tc^ aro
:rv he
*
■ • ■ -1 •» . ^
.•-■ -?■ -:o
• ■ • - » ««
• «
m
" . .irs
•;al
' .'■■'1 '.'>»?
1 •• ^
— -. - • » s . ^ ^. '.vo
-t m - - • •
--■"-•- - • ■ ' -^ ^ .: y
•1.':' ;■ 1 • •.' • . ■- . ....-, . ^- •-. 1^:0
The Preseirvation of Gammons cmd Open Spaces, 217
lords are snch as to place tlie lowest possible value on claims
advanced by commoners^ and yet^ should they desire to in-
close^ or, as it is technically called, ' approve ^ any waste land
as against copyholders, it is necessary for them to establish^
first, the existence of a custom authorising the Customary
Court to pass a resolution in favour of an inclosure; and
secondly, that every copyholder has given his unqualified
consent to such resolution, else it is not valid ; and this will
be to lords of manors an insuperable difficulty, as in most
manors some copyholders will be found that are not desirous
of such a proceeding; and then, again, should any of them be
minors, their consent would not be admissible. It will be
clear, therefore, that when such a custom exists it is almost
impossible to eficct an inclosure, as a diversity of opinion is
sure to be found among those interested. Granting, however,
that perfect and absolute unity and unanimity were found, and
that the resolution were duly passed by the court, another
difficulty would arise, viz., that such resolution would empower
the lord to ' approve' only as against copyholders, and would
leave the rights of freeholders to common as perfect and as
uncontrolled as ever. Finding in times gone by that the
fireeholders were always standing between them and their
long-wished-for Eldorado, they applied to Parliament in the
reign of Henry III., complaining that they could not make a
profit of the residue of their manors, as of wastes, woods, find
pastures, although there was more pasturage than was neces-
sary for the freeholders' use, and asking for the enactment of
a measure v/hich would place them in a more independent
position as regarded their power of approving. As the result
of this petition, a statute was passed which is generally known
as the Statute of Merton, because of its having been enacted
at that place, empowering lords of manors to approve against
freeholders so far as concerns common of pasture, provided
a surplus be left sufficient for their use. The rights of free-
holders are thus recognised in a manner that must, we think^
carry conviction to the mind of every thinking person. The
E roof of sufficiency of pasture being loft for the use of the free-
olders rests with the lord of the manor, and we are prone to
believe that the establishment of that proof would be no easy
task. Assuming, then, that the lord was not successful in
obtaining the consent of those whose consent was absolutely
necessary before he could legally inclose, there was but one
other resource open to him, that of applying to Parliament for
an Inclosure Act ; and the great expense attending such pro-
ceedings, with the consequent uncertainty of success, may
probably account for the comparatively small number of in-
218 The Preservation of Commons and Open Spaces,
stances in wliicli snch Acts were applied for. This is bomo
out by the following quotation from one of the Reports issued
by the Board of Agriculture, which is appended to the Bepoii
from the Select Committee of the House of Commons which
sat in 1795, under the presidency of Sir John Sinclair: —
' It is a well known fact that no common-field land, or commonable land,
be inclosed without an express Act of Parliament, nnless, indeed, by the conseot of
all persons interested ; but from the nature and disposition of mankind, sooli a
consent is difficult to be obtained, and particularly where some of the paiiies art
minors, abroad, or labour under any le^al disqualification. It is, indeed, almoat
impossible to procure such consent. With interests so clashing, and difliculties to
various. Parliament becomes the only resource; but what with the expense in
carrying the Bills through both Houses of Parliament (and which, for aught wo
know, may be extremely proper), together with the much mater expense of
bringing the parties to London, there to wait the unavoidable delays occasioned bj
other more important concerns of Parliament, until decision shall take place apon
the subject, operate in many cases as a powerful discouragement to undertakings of-
this nature, and not unfrcquently to an entire exclusion from the attempL'
About the termination of the last century there was a great
scarcity of corn in the country, and with the view of remedying
this deficiency and simplifying and harmonising the mode of
procedure adopted for the attainment of inclosures, the Legisla-
ture passed a general Inclosuro Act, and thus diminished the
numerous and heavy expenses attendant on the passing of
private bills. The policy of inclosure, however, was adopted
in the interests of the public, and not for the personal
aggrandisement of lords of manors. This is an important
feature, and one upon which great stress was laid by Sir John
Sinclair's Committee in 1795, as will be seen by the following
extracts from their report : —
* In general, those who make any obsenrations on the improrement of laiidy
reckon alone on the advantages which the landlord reaps from an increased inoomo:
whereas, in a national point of Tiew, it is not the addition to the rent^ bat to m
produce of the country, that is to be taken into consideration. * « •
* ^^ ^^ * Before concluding this address, it is necessanr to tMks
notice of one important circumstance. For some years past this kingdom has been
under the necessity of importing grain from other countries ; and the importitioii
seeming to increase, rather than otherwise, it was seriously apprehended that this
country could not furnish grain sufficient for the use of its inhabitants. * *
***** When it is considered the high price wbioli
grain and other articles of proyision bear at present, and the consequences which
might arise were these articles to become still scarcer and more expensiye, it svuttikf
cannot require any additional arguments to prove the necessity of not losing an
instant in taking such measures as may be thought most advisable, for the purpose
of acquiring from extensive tracts, situated in the very bosom of our country, the
certain means of national subsistence and prosperity.'
Despite this emphatic declaration that the policy of inclosuro
was adopted more for public than private reasons, some of the
most recent writers on the subject have urged a contrary view,
evidently because it would scarcely suit their purpose to grant
that the public, as such, were recognised by our early legislator^.
The PresertfoUon of Oomfnons and Open Spaces. 219
This is nndoubtedly an inconvenient fact, as it places them on
tlie horns of a dilemma, compelling them either to repudiate
and deny in toto the statements of a Parliamentary Committee
made after careful consideration and due inquiry, or to con-
€^e that the interests of the public were considered even
more than the desires of the lords of manors. Finding them-
selves in such an awkward situation, they have chosen to deny
the truth of the assertion made by Sir J. Sinclair's Committee,
although it is strongly supported by the opinion of Mr. Justice
Ashnrst.
Again, they maintain that copyholders' rights had not sprung
into existence at the time when the Statute of Merton was
passed; and yet, strangely enough, they contend that such
rights were controlled by that statute. One writer, after
labouring hard to prove that such rights are of a modem
date, says : —
* It doeii not, howerer, follow that copyholders' rights, as afterwards established*
would interfere with the operation of the statute, nor am I aware of any authority
for the proposition/
This language, besides being ambiguous, is calculated to lead
to much misconception. The writer intends, wo suppose, to
aay that the modern right, although fully recognised as such
by the law, would be and is utterly useless as against a statute
EBsed probably scores of years before the right was estab-
hed, and certainly before its existence could have been
contemplated ; or, in other words, to say that a copyholder's
legal right is no right at all. To a non-legal mind this is an
anomalous state of things not in the least calculated to increase
respect for the law. The Statute of Merton was passed to
ffive lords of manors power to approve (inclose) against free-
nolders only, and as there were then no copyholders' rights,
power to approve against them could not have been intended.
Some time after the passing of that Act the rights of copyholders
began to be recognised, and as these rights interfered some-
what with the wholesale inclosures of lords of manors, our
friends desire to assert that they also were in part curtailed by
the Act. But to curtail a right which is said to have had no
existence, would indeed be strange. If, then, these copyholders'
rights date from a period subsequent to the passing of the
Statute of Merton, and are legally recognised as rights ; and
if np measure has since been enacted restricting their exercise,
ihey must, one would think, be perfectly valid and uncon-
trolled. At least, such is the common-sense view of the
natter, supported also by the opinions of many eminent
lawyers.
Asimming, as we may fairly do, that the indosure policy
220 The Preservation of Commons andi Open Spaas.
was dictated by the necessities of tlie times^ and principaUy
for the public good ; and that such necessities do not now
exist, but that on the other hand the exigencies of the times
tend to preservation rather than inclosure, it will be apparent
that there is no glaring inconsistency in the House of Com-
mons pursuing a policy similar to that which has recently
characterised their proceedings in connection with this subject.
The modem advocates of inclosure do not ask that the system
may be pursued so as to facilitate the increase of the produc-
tion of com, nor do they for one moment contemplate that if
they were to succeed in their project, the waste lands would
be put to any such purpose ; on the contrary, their only object
appears to be to destroy these natural parks in order to erect
numberless dwellings, and thus put into the coffers of lords of
manors and speculative builders enormous sums of money.
The continual growth of the metropolis and our large towns
and cities renders it imperatively necessary that some pro-
vision should bo made to secure for the use of the public the
large open spaces which invariably surround our populous
towns, where the pent-up resident of the city can refresh and
invigorate his wearied frame.
Recognising the importance of this, a committee of the
Houso of Commons sat in the early part of 1865, under the
presidency of Mr. John Locke, Q.C., and, after a lengthened
deliberation as to ' the best means of preserving for the use of
the public the forests, commons, and open spaces near the
metropolis,' they made two reports which have since furnished
the basis of a bill introduced by the Right Hon. W. Cowper
on behalf of the late Government. This bill had a compara-
tively diflScult transit through the two Houses, but ultimately,
with a few modifications, received the Royal assent. The
leading features of this Act are, that the Inclosure Commis-
sioners are not in future to entertain any application for the
inclosure of the whole or a part of any common or other open
space within the Metropolitan Police district; and that the
lord of the manor, the commoners, or other local authority, may
present a memorial for the presentation of the open spaces in
their immediate vicinity; such memorial to embody a draft
scheme which shall make due provision for the draining,
sewering, and otherwise ornamenting of these natural parks,
the expenses connected with which are to be defrayed by a
local rate levied for the purpose. After the presentation of
this memorial to the Inclosure Commissioners, an assistant
commissioner will be appointed by them to visit the locality,
take evidence respecting it, call a meeting of those interested
(if necessary), and obtain as far as possible a correct estimate
The Preservation of Commons and Open Spaces. 221
of the views of the residents in tlie neigliboorliood. The
Indosore Commissioners will then^ if they deem it advisable,
prepare a scheme and submit it to those most immediately
connected with it — after which it will be laid before Parliament
for approval and adoption. Should it happen, however, that
there are any hostile petitions, it will be referred to a Select
Committee of the House of Commons, who will investigate
the matter and report.
The Act just alluded to applies only to commons and open
spaces situated within fifteen miles of Charing Cross ; and com-
mons outside that boundary can be legally inclosed only by
the consent of all parties interested, or by an application to the
Inclosnre Commissioners. The general Inclosure Act has
been modified and altered from time to time, one of the con-
ditions now existing being that a certain portion of the common
intended to be inclosed shall be set apart as a kind of village
green for recreation purposes. When the inclosure at Chig-
well, in Essex, was suggested, eight or ten acres only were
intended to be set apart for the use of the public, but the
liegislature refused to give its sanction to the undertaking
unless fifty acres were reserved as a recreation ground for the
people. This seems tantamount to asserting that where the
public have, by the acquiescence of both the lord and
commoners of a manor, used a common as a place of enjoy-
ment and recreation for a long period, they have, by virtue of
snch use, obtained an easement over the common, and a dedi-
cation to the public will then be inferred.
The legal rights of common, if duly exorcised, will tend in a
great measure to retain the advantages to the public resulting
from such spaces being kept open and uninclosed ; still, there
can be no doubt that more legislative action on the subject is
urgently needed, so that the desirability of having the common
lands preserved, particularly when situated near large towns,
may be realised by the actual fact. The theory now most
current is, that wnile villages have an undoubted right to
greens and recreation grounds, cities and large towns are
devoid of any such right. This seems absurd on the face of it,
and we hope will not long retain possession of the public mind.
The larger the town, the greater the necessity for such open
spaces ; and we, therefore, hail with satisfaction the Metropo-
litan Commons Act, which forbids the Inclosure Commissioners
from inclosing any common lands within fifteen miles of London,
and also provides the machinery for the preservation of these
open spaces, when the inhabitants residing near them are
public-spirited enough to set the Act in motion. This legisla-
tion is in the right direction, and wo anticipate that the success
222 Pawnbroking.
attending its operation will be snch as to warrant the extension
of the Act to the whole country. The temptations to inclose
are now greater than at any previous time, in consequence of
the increased value of land : hence the necessity for further
action on the part of the public.
PAWNBROKING.
TT^ITHER the real necessities of many people have unduly
XLi increased with the growing prosperity of the nation, op
their improvidence has allowed their wants to run ahead of
their means. Be this as it may, one thing is certain, the habit
of pawning personal property of late years has become quite
common among classes of persons who some time ago would
have been ashamed to have had recourse to such a method of
raising money.
Sixty years ago public opinion was anything but favourable
either to pawnbrokers or to the class who made use of them.
At that time, in many places with which the writer was
acquainted, it would have been a serious cause of reproach to
any person laying claim to respectability to have been known
to have pledged any personal property. Some of the people
engaged in the business were then so much under the influence
of public opinion that they were actually ashamed to hoist the
insignia of their trade ; or, perhaps, it would be more correct
to say that they felt that the sign of the ' Balls ' would have
had a tendency to keep away the needy members of society.
In the early part of the present century, it was quite a common
thing in many of our provincial towns for this business to be
carried on sub rosa. Things have wonderfully changed since
then. The great body of the people seem to have been
relieved of all such delicacy. The gilded symbols of the
trade are seen in nearly all the public thoroughfares of every
town and not a few of the villages in the kingdom, and these
signs are now common.
It would seem that wherever trade and commerce take
root, pawnbrokers^ establishments, like nettles near a human
habitation, are sure to spring into existence, and with the gin
palaces, come in for a large share of the produce of the
people's labour. It may be observed that both these places
of business flourish to the greatest advantage in districts
occupied by the labouring classes. The constant dribbling of
Pawnbroking. 223
tbe poor people^s pence is more than equivalent to tlie shillings
of the middle classes.
It may be of some little interest to the uninitiated members
of society to know who are the parties who keep the machinery
of the pawnbrokers' establishments lubricated, so that the
fiiction does not overcome the motive power. There are four
distinct classes of people who have dealings with the ' uncle' to
the unfortunate and improvident members of society. These
may be classified. First come persons in business who
occasionally are unable to meet the demands of their creditors,
or who run short of money to pay wages to their workpeople.
One division of this class have no friends to aid them in their
difficulties, and the other are too independent to place them-
selves under obligations either to friends or relations, so they
leave their deposits under the three balls with the comfortable
impression that whatever they have left will have increased in
yalue at the rate of twenty per cent, when they may call for it.
The second class are more numerous than the above, and have
more just demand on our sympathy. The members of this
class belong to that struggling order of humanity who have
1>een overtaken by some one or other of those misfortunes or
calamities which are continually sporting with human happi-
ness in an artificial state of society. As a general rule, the
great bulk of the property pledged by the members of this
class is never redeemed, for the simple reason that a large
number of them fall down to the bottom of the social system
— or into the grave. The pawnbrokers are aware that the
people who form this class are not likely to be able to redeem
their pledges, however valuable they may be either intrinsically
or otherwise, and the amount lent upon them is regulated by a
knowledge of this circumstance. We have known many a
hard battle between the lingering pride of respectability and
the pangs of hunger fought by people who were falling from
positions of social comfort into the black gulph of abject
poverty, before they could avail themselves of the relief to be
obtained in one of these establishments. There is a much
greater number in this class than is generally supposed. Thoso
of whom it is formed seldom parade their miseries before the
Tulgar gaze. In the large towns of Great Britain there are
thousands of people who are continually gravitating from one
platform to another in the social system, and many of them
are virtually down at the bottom before they are aware of the
fall measure of their misfortunes.
The third class of pledgers is made up of two sorts of people ;
the first division comprises mechanics, artisans, and gentlemen's
iermits who arp imemployed; and the second consists of
224 Paunlbrokvng.
a number of loanging^ lazj^ dissipated men^ who hare a
sincere hatred of work and an inordinate love for drink.
The fourth class is more numerous than all the others put
together. This, too, may be said to consist of two distinct
divisions. The first is composed of slatternly, careless, and
improvident married women, mapy of whom have good
incomes, but, in consequence of their mismanagement and
general thriftlessness, they are continually living from hand
to mouth. Wo know many women of this kind who make a
habit of pawning the Sunday suits of their husbands and sons
as regularly as the Monday comes round ; all they care about
is to raise the money, and if it ever strikes them that they are
paying the brokers fifty-two months^ interest instead of twelve
months^ and four shillings and fourpence for tickets instead
of one penny in the year, it gives them no trouble. It is quite
a common thing for women of this class to involve uieir
husbands in both debt and disgrace by getting from ' Tally-
men^ articles of clothing, either such as they do not need, or
as are unsuitable for their social position. Many of the
articles thus obtained are sent out upon interest, and goods
of this class are seldom redeemed. The second division
of the fourth class of pledgers is almost wholly constituted of
women of dissipated habits. As a general rule the members
of this worthless body are full of deceit and mean selfishness^
they are wanting in shame and all feelings of self-respect, and
many of them will stoop to anything, however degrading, in
order to gratify their morbid love of stimulants. This class
of women are continually breaking down both the moral and
physical energies of numbers of industrious, sober, and well-
conducted men, and covering their homes with the black pall
of desolation. If the hellish scenes which are constantly being
enacted by these alcoholic furies in the homes of working men
could only be exposed to the public gaze in all their hideous-
ness, the well-conducted members of society would be appalled
at the sight. Unless some restraint can be put upon the
actions of the class of women who have become confirmed
drunkards, they soon swallow the contents of any working
man's house. We have known many instances in which well-
furnished houses have been dissolved into alcohol, through the
aid of pawnbrokers, in a very short time. K a working man
is cursed with a wife of this description and a family of young
children, what can he do to relieve himself ? He cannot afibrd
to send the wife to an asylum ; and if he leaves her, what is to
become of his family ? It may be, too, that the man clings to
the hope that his poor wife may yet reform, and, though she
has outraged all the best feelings of his natarOj he cannot
Pawnhroking. 225
forget that she was once the idol of his heart. There are
thousands of industrious, well-conducted men, who would hail
a period, even though it should bo a short one, of sobriety on
the part of their wives as a time of the sunshine of domestic
happiness. Many of these men never cease hoping ; and bear
their heavy loads of misery in silence. But with the best
tempered and even the most forgiving of men the home of the
drunkard can never be one of peace.
It will be seen from what has been said that to the first two
classes in the catalogue of pledgers, pawnbrokers^ establish-
ments are really useful places of business ; and, though the
members of the second are seldom able to redeem their pledges,
they are really no worse off than if they had sold their property
to people who did not require it. Moreover, by having had
recourse to the ^ uncle ^ of the public, they have been saved the
disagreeable necessity of hunting for customers for their pro-
perty and advertising their own necessities. But, although
pawnbrokers are useful to the class of people who are continually
being stranded on barren shores by the action of the great
gnlf-stream of commerce, we are much afraid that their evil
influence upon the lives and fortunes of the other two classes
more than counterbalances that usefulness. It must be pretty
plain to most people who are at all acquainted with the social
condition of the pledgers at the bottom of our list, that were
it not for the aid of the pawnbrokers they could not have the
means of patronising the gin shops and degrading themselves
to the extent they do.
The conductors of pawnbroking establishments, we dare say,
seldom or never look at their business and its bearing upon
society from a moral point of view. They know that the trade
is a legal one, and that they pay for a government license.
But, unquestionably, the pawnbroker is continually aiding in
fenerating vice, crime, and madness, with all their train of
orrors. It is a great misfortune that one class of men
should be habitually engaged in assisting the members of
another class to bring ruin upon themselves and misery upon
their families, without intending any harm. Yet it is so.
Every shilling lent by a pawnbroker to a drunken woman is
virtually a ticket for so much poison in the gin shop, and an
additional contribution to the misery of her husband and
children, if she has any. An army of married women make
use of pawnbrokers^ establishments for their own destruction
and that of the comfort, happiness, and peace of their families.
Besides, by their example, relaxing the bonds of public morality,
by vitiating their natural constitutions they become the mothers
of a degenerate race. The sins of a drunken mother are not
Vol. 11.— JVb. 43. o
226 Pawnbroking.
'only liable to be visited npon her offspring by physical debility,
but the children are too likely to inherit her craving for stimu-
lants, and these penalties for the violation of the natural law
are frequently extended to the third and fourth generation.
We do not wish to be understood as implying that pawn-
brokers, as a class, are less honest or more heartless than the
members of other commercial or trading portions of the com-
munity. So far as the pawnbroking business is concerned,
there is perhaps less trickery in its management than there
is very commonly in most of the other branches of trade in
which the public are interested. We have shown that pawn-
brokers' establishments are very useful to a comparatively
small number of people, and in this respect they may be
accepted as valuable institutions. But the misfortune is, that
they are not only a positive evil to the great majority of people
who use them, but that the evil is multiplied by the manner
in which it is made to re-act on society. Every respectable
member of society looks, of course, upon a drunken woman as
a shame and a reproach to the community in which she lives.
Habitual drunkards are callous to all the best feelings of human
nature, and the only real sjrmpathy they possess is for their
6 wine-trough stomachs. If female intemperance were extin-
guished, the majority of the pawnbrokers' establishments
would tumble down of their own accord.
A short time ago we had occasion to be in a pawnbroker's
establishment in one of the busy trading and industrial centres
of which the great City of London is formed; and having
some little time at our disposal, we made up our mind to learn
a fresh lesson in social science. We were fortunately placed
in a position where we could see and hear all that was going
on without being noticed, and as it was on a Monday evening
when large numbers of deposits are made, our time was
pretty well occupied in observing the manner and appearance
of the customers as they presented themselves." When we
took up our position there were several women, all of whom
were pledging men's wearing apparel, the holiday clothing, no
doubt, of their husbands or grown-up sons. We saw at once
by the familiar and off-handed manner in which they trans-
acted their business, that they were regular weekly customeris,
and consequently belonged to that thriftless class of house-
wives who squander a considerable portion of their hus-
bands' hard-earned money in paying interest on loans they
would not require if they would only use common prudence.
When these customers had passed their rude jokes with the
shopman who served them, pocketed their money and
tickets, and moved off, the stalls they vacated were imme-
Pawnbroking. 227
diately filled with a fresh set of customers. In tUs gronp
fiiere were several old stagers^ who^ like nearly all the
members of their class^ seemed rather inclined to court notice
than to shun it. But there were three people in as many
^stalls who belonged to a different order of humanity. The
Srst of these was a middle-aged gentlemanly-looking man.
Wlien he entered the box^ he cautiously scanned the place^
*4Uid seemed to keep himself as much out of sight as possible.
As soon as a servant of the establishment was ready to wait
wi him, he pulled out of his pocket a gold watch with copious
^pendages attached. The question, ^How much?' was put.
ffis answer was ' Twelve pounds.' ' Eleven/ said the shop-
^*^Ti. At this I could see a painful shade of disappointment
P^sa over his features. 'I must have twelve/ he said, 'it
^ for a special purpose, and nothing less will do ; surely,' he
^^ded, 'you can let me have that sum; the watch and the ap-
pendages cost me forty guineas.' After this the shopman took
*lie watch into the counting-house, where the proprietor was
^Tigaged with some people on business. A short consultation
^fficed. The shopman returned and paid the advance sought.
Inuring the time the amount of the loan was undecided, the
gentleman was evidently in a very uncomfortable condition of
^nind. It was evident from his manner that the realisation of
the sum he sought was a matter of no trifling consequence
either to himself or some person in whom he had a deep in-
terest. He may have required the amount to make up the sum
necessary to take up a bill, and thereby save his commercial
credit ; or, it may be, it was the sum required to keep the
brokers from stripping his house, and thereby leaving himself
and family without a home. For whatever purpose the twelve
pounds were required, he evidently left with his mind relieved
of a serious trouble. In two stalls, one on each side of that
left empty by the man who had just gone out, were two women
waiting to be served. Both were young ; one was seemingly
a wife, and the other had evidently never been in matrimonial
harness. Both were something more than pretty, but the
lineaments of their faces wore a marked difference. The
married one had an infant in her arms, and though she had a
jaded and melancholy look, the sweet innocent prattle of her
child occasionally sent a beam of brightness over her sad
features, which was like the sunshine chasing the shadows
from a beautiful landscape. When she was waited upon, we
could see that her pledges consisted of a number of small
articles of jewellery, among which were three gentleman's
rings, and what appeared to be a very handsome brooch. She
readily got what dbie asked j but when the shopman had care-
228 Paivnbroking.
fully folded the articles up and taken them away, we saw her
heart was filled with sorrow, and the tide of her grief flowed
through her eyes. Poor woman, she was not alone in her
sorrow. She had unknownly made another heart sad beside
her own. We could have wished ourselves away, but we were
chained to the spot. When she left we set ourselves to spe-
culate upon the cause of her being obliged to have recourse
to a method of raising money which was evidently distasteful.
We were satisfied from her jaded and care-worn look that her
husband was on a bed of sickness. Was the partner of her
sorrows a reckless, dissipated young man, who, regardless of
the love and duty which he owed to his wife and child, had
hurried onward to the jaws of a premature death ? Had the
evil genius of gambling caused him to lose caste, and to live
on the outside of society ? If so, though deserted by all the
world, his wife evidently clung to him with a love that never
cooled, and a hope that continually chased away the shadows
of despair. Or, perhaps, he had got into the hands of that
smooth-faced visitant, that recruiting sergeant for the worms,
better known by the name of Consumption, and his poor wife
was making every possible sacrifice to prolong a rapidly ter-
minating existence.
The second young woman, in the sad and mournful features
of her youthful face, evinced a sorrow that was too great to be
relieved by tears. She was of a medium height, and her form
was faultless. All the lineaments of her face were harmonized
into something like perfect beauty, and that beauty was
heightened by the quiet grief which rested in silence there.
She had to wait some time before any of the servants were at
liberty to attend to her. We were so deeply intei*e8ted in that
poor girPs condition, and the cause of her grief, that if we had
had it in our power, we certainly could not have rested
until we had learned something of her history, and endeavoured
to mitigate her sufferings. While she waited, she neither
looked to the right nor the left; instead of regarding external
objects, her vision seemed to be keeping company with her
busy memory. At last when she was attended to, we observed
that she offered what appeared to us to be a lady's very
valuable gold watch. When the shopman inquired how much
she wanted upon it, she seemed to think that the answer to
that question rested entirely with himself. Seeing it was left to
him, the shopman said he would advance her ten pounds. A
rippling shade of pleasing melancholy passed over her features,
as if she felt an inward relief; she passed out into the big world
of London, and we were loft full of sad conjecture. We knew
that girFs grief was not for herself. Was that watch pledged in
Paumbroking. 229
order to obtain tte common necessaries of life for a father or
a mother who had been nnrsed in affluence, to prevent a heart-
less landlord from sending them into the streets as houseless
wanderers ? Or was the money raised to endeavour to keep
the spark of life whose oil was all but exhausted in some
relation with whose existence her own was lovingly entwined ?
During the time we were observing this young woman a
number of regular customers had cracked their jokes (some of
which were anything but feminine), had pocketed their money,
and moved off; but just as the girl left, a half tipsy man,
seemingly a mechanic, offered a shirt which was evidently
warm from his body. He got for it sixpence, less the price of
the ticket for his pledge, and we should say that that poor
infatuated fellow did not go beyond the accommodating house
at the opposite comer before he swallowed the proceeds of his
shirt. If that man was a husband and a father, God help his
wife and family, and God help him too. When a man gets so
far lost to feelings of decency and self-respect as to pawn his
clothing or his tools for drink, his case is a hopeless one
indeed.
Two women now took their places in neighbouring stalls;
they were of very dissimilar character. The youngest of the two
was a poor, miserable, half-naked, wholly dissipated-looking
creature, with a sickly infant in her arms ; the poor little thing
was endeavouring to draw nutriment from a dirty flaccid breast.
In the woman's hand she held a bundle tied up in a filthy rag.
While she was being waited upon, she kept her tongue
in exercise by talking maudlin twaddle to her child, to the
young men of the establishment, and to the other customers
who were coming and going. When she unrolled her parcel she
exhibited a pair of black trousers, which were, no doubt, her
husband's best. Upon these she got two shillings and sixpence.
She gathered up her change and ticket, and staggered into the
street, a thing to be scorned and pitied.
. The other woman was a clean, tidy, respectable-looking
person, with an anxious and somewhat care-worn expression
of countenance. She was evidently a stranger to the business
of pledging, and did all she could to shun observation. Her
property consisted of two cloth suits of boy's clothing. It
was evident from the appearance of the woman, and the
character of the pledges, that the necessity requiring her to
part with these things only for a short time must have been
urgent indeed. Had her husband lost his work from slack-
ness of trade ? Had he been obliged to leave his employ-
ment from sickness, accident, or settled ill-health ? Or had
they run in arrears of rent from sickness or death in their
230 Pavmbroking,
family ? We know tliat some calamity had overtaken tlnJi^
poor woman in the shape of a domestic aSSiiction^ otherwise
would not have pledged her boy^s clothing. We felt for tl
woman's condition, because we were sure that her misfortun
whatever it might be, was not of her own seeking,
attention was next drawn to a rude sensual-looking womBomcXi
who seemed to be in that condition which is neither term^^^
drunk nor sober. She wore a bold, cunning leer, which a]
peared to imply that she knew quite well what she was doini
and that she did not care for the opinion of any human beinj
She had scarcely got into the box, ere she was followed by
youth who told the people in the place that she had strippe
a young man of his waistcoat in the open street while und(
the influence of drink. The garment she carried openly i
her hand. After this information she was ordered to leave th —
premises, but it was only by force that the servants of th- ^
establishment could eject her.
This sort of business is quite common in all the back sluma^
both in London and in all the largo towns in the kingdom ^
and the goods thus obtained are readily disposed of at from
sixth to a tenth of their value. The fact is, the pawnshop h
a receptacle for all sorts of marketable commodities, and thaCs
too often irrespective of how they may have been obtained —
The pawnbrokers who keep a conscience know pretty well^
as a general rule, when they have goods oflered them that^
have not been got honestly, and steer clear of them ; but ther^
are not a few in the trade who are not troubled with scruples,
and who endeavour to make hay by moonlight.
Stripping drunken men, and even people who are sober, is
a thing of hourly occurrence in London ; and, in the slang of
the professional thieves, nearly the whole of the property so
obtained ' goes up the spout.' When it is stated that the
number of people employed in this business of conveyancing,
embracing young and old, male and female, would form a
large colony, some little idea may be formed of the temptations
to which pawnbrokers are exposed and the dangers with
which their business is beset.
The next person we felt an interest in was a pretty-
featured, pale-faced, sickly-looking woman. Poor creature!
It did not require the practised eye of a medical man to tefl
that she was consumptive. The hectic stars on her bleached
cheeks told but too truly of the fatal pulmonary action which
was wasting her young life away. Her visit to the sign of the
three balls was evidently a very unpleasant duty, and the
nature of her pledges furnished proof that some urgent and
immediate demand required to be satisfied. The four articles
Pastor Fliedner. 231
of wearing apparel which she ofiTered wore evidently her own
personal property. They were of good material, had been little
tfat all worn, and were in all probability the last remaining
wticles from the wreck of a happier time. The purpose for
wiich they were being pledged was no doubt of a special
oiuiracter, inasmuch as she, poor woman, sought a sum
fflnch below what she could have had, the amount being
fifteen shillings. Was this money wanted to save herself and
«n infirm mother or father from being turned into the streets ?
Wias it to satisfy the demand of some importunate creditor ?
9^ was it to pay a fine for some reckless brother, whose dis-
fiJJated habits had not been reclaimed by the fallen fortunes of
™ family ? Whatever may have been the cause of her visit,
^e Were quite satisfied that her errand was one of duty and
^®rcy, and when she left we wished her a speedy end to her
trials.
Tlx© caseg which wo have described were supplemented
"V tHose of several women, some with infants in their arms,
*^d all in various stages of intoxication, who left their pledges
^d hurried away to add to their demoralisation and the
^■^Sexy of their husbands and families.
PASTOR FLIEDNER.
'l^HE death of Pastor Fliedner was reported in 'Meliora^
J. soon after its much and widely lamented occurrence.
We are indebted to Catherine Winkworth for the publication
in this country, through Messrs. Longman, Green, and Co.,
of a ' Life ' — much too brief — of the good pastor, translated
firom the German. It is by its aid that we are enabled
to place before those of our readers to whom Pastor Fliedner
is as yet no more than a name, proof sufficient that that
name deserves in no ordinary measure the high con-
sideration of every philanthropist. To others of our readers
the good work accomplished by Fliedner will already have
been made familiar by the ' Account of the Institution for
Deaconesses,' given to the English world by Miss Nightingale,
as well as by Dr. Howson's book on ^ Deaconesses,' and the
Eev. F. Stevenson's on ' Praying and Working.'
Theodore Fliedner was the fourth son in a large family
bom to a clergyman in Egstein, a little village about ten or
twelve miles from Wiesbaden, close to the frontiers of Hesse
232 Pastor Fliedm^.
and Nassau. The 21st of January in the first year of
this century was the birthday of our Theodore ; and a fat,
healthy child he was, endowed with huge sleeping capacity, and
showing then so little of what was to come out of him, that of
his intellectual future his father at first had the most indifferent
expectations. ^ And what do you mean to be ? ' asked a friend
of the father's, when Theodore was in the eighth year of his
age. ' Oh,' interposed the father, ' that is my good, little
Patty ; he is to be an honest brewer.' But good, little Fatty
had thoughts of his own about the matter, and did not approve
of this jocular slight from his father. He turned red in the
face, crept away, and wept bitterly ; for had he not already
made up his mind to be nothing less than a proper pastor,
like his father and his grandfather before him, and to make
himself, as his father had done, of signal use to the neigh-
bourhood ? Already the mother had called him to her knee
to learn his letters, as she sat in the evenings at her spinning-
wheel, and had found the round-headed chubby-cheeked little
fellow a scholar both diligent and progressive. And Theodore
soon justified his mother's praises when admitted to join a
class consisting of his brothers and some boys from the neigh-
bourhood. Although the youngest in the lot, he speedily
outstripped the rest, and by the time he had reached twelve
or thirteen years of age, his fluent reading of Homer was
exhibited with pride by his father. No driving to work was
ever requisite in his case. His mind was active, his ambition
was high, books were his delight, and often would he sit read-
ing quietly for hours among his noisy playmates, or hidden in
the garden or barn to enjoy his reading undisturbed. First
at books, yet he was not a mere bookworm ; nor was he con-
tent to be less than first also in all boyish games. He could
run and climb, and defend himself, too, with his fists, with a
power that was a caution to boys bigger than he. But his
greatest pleasures as a boy were the long walking expeditions
in which his father sometimes allowed himself to be accom-
panied by Theodore ; and the various household operations in
which he could assist his parents. Thus, in autumn he
collected his father's tithes from the peasants' fruit gardens^
and kept the accounts of them ; in the winter he helped to
cut wood by day, and in the long evenings to carve kitchen
platters and spoons ; in summer he supplied his mother with
berries from the woods for her preserve-pots, or waded in
amongst and turned over the sharp stones of the brook, hunt-
ing for crayfish. A pestilence, engendered by an encamp-
ment of Cossacks, with which Bgstein was cursed in the
closing months of 1813, broke up this happy home life for
Pastor Fliedner. 233
Theodore and his ten brothers and sisters j for it carried away
the father, and left the widow and her large family wholly un-
provided for. However, the open-hearted hospitality and
worth of the father had predisposed many to help the bereaved
ones ; a generous velvet manufacturer, Peter Denninger, of
Idstein, offered substantial aid towards sending Theodore and
his elder brother to the grammar school ; and a subscription in
Frankfort provided support for the mother, which the exer-
tions of Theodore and his brother were expected ere long to
enlarge. Theodore went to Idstein to school. Denninger
found him lodgings in his own house, but from the first the
boy had to earn his daily bread and supply his other wants by
teaching. Often did he make his own bed, cut up his fire-
wood, clean his boots, mend his stockings, and sew up holes
in his trouser-knees with white thread that had to be rendered
invisible by aid of the ink bottle. Study was his favourite
occupation ; and for recreation he read books of travels and
lives of great men.
In 1817, Theodore went to the University at Giessen, lodging
free at the house of an uncle, but trusting to his own exertions
for the rest of his maintenance. When the money he earned
was insuJBcient, help always came in time of need from known
or unknown friends; and it was thus that by many an expe-
rience of his own he learned to regard himself as one of God's
bedesmen. He knew how to make a little go far and do much.
He contrived, for instance, to accomplish a foot journey of
two hundred miles, through Wurzberg to Nuremberg, on a
provision of no more than two gulden, of a third of which
sum he was cheated on the very day he set out.
At Giessen he went in for gymnastics, amongst other
porsuits, and joined the Society of Gymnasts there, until he
discovered that they had revolutionary schemes of which he
could not see the propriety. 'Let each one mend one, and
the world will soon mend itself,' was his reply to their projects;
an answer sufficient, since he had wise reasons for holding
aloof, but altogether faulty, of course, if perverted, as some are
found doing, to the discouragement of enterprises for ameliora-
ting the condition of others, such as Fliedner also was enabled
to initiate in after years. With redoubled ardour he pursued
his studies, especially all that promised to be of service in the
pastoral office to which he aspired. With the theologic doubts
that assume aspects so serious to some youths, he appears
not to have been visited. His favourite studies continued to
be the lives of great men ; and in one of his manuscript books
were collected the stories of their noble deeds, for an ever-
present memorial to him. He fully proposed to be of their
234 Pastor Fliedner.
great brotherhood; and even thus early formed plans of future
service to be rendered to his fellow-men by Theodore Fliedner.
* Undoubtedly,* he wrote of himself at that time, * I placed before myself the
noble and sacr^ aim of effecting as much good as possible in my future congrega-
tion ; but as yet, unfortunately, I knew very little of the right way to do it, b^use,
what is best of all, a knowledge of Gh)d, and the blessedness of union with Him,
was as yet unknown to my own heart. Such presentiment of it dwelt within me,
but dim and indistinct as yet, through my own fault; for all my thoughts were full
of doing good to others, and bringing them to God, and it never occurred to me to
strive to come to Him myself. Yet how was I to lead them to this great happiness,
when I did not possess it myself, did not even clearly understand it ? Yet tho
Lord had patience with me, and led me by the cords of His love, though I thanked
Him little for them.'
Meanwhile Fliedner was industriously adding to his stock of
knowledge of all kinds, noting down especially all practical
hints he came across in domestic medicine and agriculture,
the use of which was great in after years, when he became to
his flock an adviser in things temporal as well as in the
spiritual.
From Giessen, after a brief interval of home life, Theodore
and'his brother went to Gottingen, where he gave most of his
effort to the study of history, philosophy, and whatever else
might seem to have special bearing on his own expected voca-
tion, eschewing, however, controversial theology, as seeming
to his practical mind to be only barren. His holidays he spent
in travelling about North Germany, in his frugal way ; making
a single gold piece, for example, serve him during a whole
month whilst he visited Bremen and Hamburg and Lubeck
and the magnificent orphan-house founded by Augustus Franke
at Halle.
To receive a final scholastic training, Fliedner went from
Gottingen to Herborn. . Here he practised preaching and gave
theological lessons in the schools. In 1820 ho returned to his
mother^s house at Idstein, giving attention to farming and
botany, and earning a little money at the turning-lathe. That
summer he passed his final examination with very great credit;
and so, at twenty years of age, the young divinity student was
declared to be ready to begin the work of the ministry.
First of all, however, he became tutor in the family of a
wealthy man at Cologne ; and here he discovered the deficien-
cies in refinement and polish which the poverty of his cir-
cumstances had occasioned up to this period. ^ It is a great
hindrance to a man,^ he remarked many years afterwards,
' even to his progress in the kingdom of God, not to have been
brought up in gentle and refined manners from his childhood.'
He had three boys, and sometimes a little girl, to teach in this
family ; and with heart and soul he endeavoured to become in
every way serviceable to them. At Cologne, Dr. Krafft, a high
Pastor Fliedner. 235
dignitary of the Lutheran church, exercised a strong influence
upon him.
• Thus it happened one Sondajr that Fliedner had been preaching, as he frequently
did, for the oonsistorial councillor. As they came out of church, Krafft asked
Fliedner if he did not often feel very neryous as he went up the pulpit stairs.
Fliedner promptly replied that if he had learnt his sermon by heart he was not
nenrous, he had no fear of breaking down. The accomplished preacher to whom
he was speakins confessed that he could not say so much for himself ; however care-
fully he might have prepared his discourse, the sense of awe that overcame him as
be entered the pulpit would often drive it all out of his head, and he could only
B^h. " Lord, help me," and help had never been refused him. "This humility,"
•aid Fliedner, " made me ashamed of myself, and the exsmple of his living, inde-
fatigable charity and faith had a powerful effect on my heart, and left on me a
permanent impression of the simple truth and saving power of a real Scriptural
faith.
fit
In the autumn of 1821, Fliedner returned home, intending
to abandon the pastoral oflBce, for which he no longer felt
certain of his fitness. But a young army chaplain, who had
known him at Cologne, spoke of him about this time to a
leading friend of the church-going people of Kaiserwerth, an
obscure village on the Ehine ; and this fi-iend strongly urged
Fliedner to preach before them on trial. Fliedner did so; and,
after some delay, received, to his surprise, a unanimous call to
the pastorate. The pecuniary inducement was not strong.
The income was to be about £27 per annum, and the parsonage
was to be shared with the aged widow of a previous pastor ;
but Fliedner thought nothing of these drawbacks, and joyfully
accepted the invitation at once as a call from God. In the
opening of 1822 he was ordained at Idstein ; and proceeded at
once to Kaiserwerth on foot, in order to spare his poor little
flock the expense of a formal reception. Having been duly
installed, he threw himself with zeal into his new duties. He
preached, he visited the sick, he endeavoured to provide work,
food, or fuel for the poor who needed it, and he became
amanuensis to those who were unable to write. The schools
had been much neglected, and he strongly interested himself
in their revival. He opened a grammar school in his own
house, and soon had a mixed company of Roman Catholic and
Protestant pupils. To relieve his mother of a heavy charge,
he took into his house his two younger brothers and a grown-
up sister, Catherine, who became his housekeeper. A sewing
Bchool for girls was soon opened under her care.
Not that all things went on prosperously at first with the
young pastor. Only a month after his arrival, a great velvet
manufacturing firm failed, and swept away not only the chief
part of hjs salary, but also the means of employment relied on
by the workpeople who had been paying the rest of the expenses.
The little congregation saw itself on the point of dispersion ;
1^
236 Pastor Fliedner.
and the government ofiTered Fliedner his choice between two
better appointments. But no ; the hireling might flee, but
not the true shepherd ; and Fliedner resolved to remain at his
post. By teaching the children of some wealthier families, he
was able to secure the requisite means ; and his people, finding
him thus nobly self-sacrificing, strained every nerve to second
his eSbrts. Still, when the utmost was done, it became
evident that help from the exterior was requisite, and Fliedner
prepared to go on a begging expedition amongst the richer
congregations of Berg and Cleves.
The position of Kaiserwerth was, indeed, such as to give it
some title to special sympathy from Protestants. It was not
till 1777 that the first regular reformed service was performed
there ; up to that time the Reformation had not extended to
that part of the world, except in the person of the Pastor
Idiander or Sandermann, who died in prison at Kaiserworth,
at the opening of the seventeenth century, for preaching the
Reformed faith. The pastorate of Kaiserwerth, therefore,
claimed to be as a light shining in a dark place. Yet it was
with a heavy heart that Theodore set off on foot for Elberfelt,
for the task was far from congenial to his disposition. Just
before coming into Elberfelt, he stopped to rest at a small way-
side inn, and here anxiety was so apparent on his face, that an
entire stranger accosted him and asked what was the matter.
With an overflowing heart Fliedner told his tmknown
friend how the case stood ; and the stranger, bidding him look
to the true Helper in this time of need, pressed a small sum
into his hand, to which something more was added by the
landlord, who had listened to the conversation. Thus
encouraged, Fliedner laid his wants before a circle of the
younger clergy at the house of Pastor Leipoldt. His
modesty and intelligence pleased them, but all agreed, when
he was gone, that his shyness would prevent him from ever
being a successful beggar. However, at the end of the week,
the young pastor was enabled to return home with £180 in his
pocket ; and, by continued exertions in neighbouring parishes,
he succeeded in paying ofi* a heavy debt on the buildings at
Kaiserwerth, and thus meet the most pressing difficulty. But
it became evident that to ensure the permanence of the work,
a much greater efibrt was necessary. There must be an
endowment ; and, to obtain this, the pilgrim's stafi* must be
taken into Holland. To Amsterdam, therefore, he went, and
here found it necessary to study Dutch hard and fast, in the
first place ; which done, however, his mission prospered. He
afterwards went to Rotterdam, and the other chief towns of
Holland, and came back with twenty thousand florins — about
Tasior Fliedner. 237
half the sum required for the endowment. For the rest, he
saw that he must go to England; and, nothing daunted, to
England he went. In February, 1824, he appeared unex-
pectedly in London at the door of Dr. Steinkopff, who had by
letter tried to dissuade him from coming. In seven weeks
Fliedner, with the kind aid of Dr. Steinkopff and sundry
French and Dutch ministers, and by help of a vigorous study
of the English tongue, was prepared to make a commencement
in his canvass ; actually got the Httle Princess Victoria for his
first subscriber; was patronised by many other members of
the royal family, nobility, and clergy > and, in short, within
five months found himself in possession of £700, raised in
London and Oxford alone. In August he returned to
Kaiserworth with a heart brimful! of joy on account of this
success ; and, with something to boot, of much more value
than all else that he had gained.
' In both these Protestant countries/ he wrote afterwards, * I became acquainted
with a multitude of charitable institutions, for the benefit both of body and soul ;
I saw schools and other educational or^nieations, almshouses, orphanages,
hospitals, prisons, and societies for the reformation of prisoners, Bible and mis-
flionary societies, etc., etc. ; and at the same time I obserred that it was a liring
faith in Christ which had called almost eierj one of these institutions and societies
into life, and still preserved them in activity. This evidence of the practical power
and fertility of such a principle had a most powerful influence in strengthening
my own faith, as yet very weak. The deepest impression was made upon me by
the majestic, world-wide activity of the British and Foreign Bible Society, and
again by the Society for the Improvement of Prisons, into whose detailed working
I was initiated by the venerable Dr. Steinkopff.'
These practical lessons fell, in Fliedner, into good ground,
and brought forth much noble fruit.
For twenty-seven years he continued to be the pastor at
E[aiserwerth ; never limiting his performances by his bare
obligations, but freely engaging in every labour that it was
permitted him to undertake. He possessed, from his early
days, a very unusual force of character, and had strong desire
for action, and pleasure in hard work. In his pastorate he
took great pains with his sermons. In the schools, besides
exercising supervision over the master, he undertook the whole
religious instruction, even of the youngest child. For a long
time he conducted a Sunday school for the elder boys, until
it grew into a Young Men^s Institute and Temperance
Society, which even many Eoman Catholics attended. At his
parsonage the children of his congregation were always
welcome guests. A large garden, added to the parsonage in
1824, was freely opened to them on Sunday afternoons. The
pastor loved children, and knew well how to make himself
chiarming as well as instructive to them. For example, he
told them lively stories with appropriate action, ^ The boys
238 Pastor FUed/ner.
told how on one occasion, for instance, tlie fall of a wanderer
into an unsuspected abyss, was illustrated by the sudden and
unexpected disappearance of the boy who chanced to sit next
to Fliedner under the table/ Again, once when they were
singing a song about Goliath the giant, and had come to the
line describing his fall, down came Fliedner on the ground
and lay there motionless, to the great delight of the little
spectators.
His first extension of philanthropic labour beyond his
pastorate appears to have been for the benefit of convicts.
Nothing corresponding with the reforms instituted in prisons
in England at the instance of Elizabeth Fry and others had
been accomplished in Germany. The convicts were crowded
in narrow, dirty cells, often in damp cellars, dark and
close ; no classification was attempted ; no chaplaincies
existed; and no schools. The prisons themselves were,
indeed, high schools of vice and crime. This dreadful
state of things was known only to few, and of these none
did more than sketch out some plan of reform, which it
was left to the State to adopt if it pleased. Yet why should
not the true friends of their race, said Fliedner, unite here as
well as in Holland and England, and achieve the like results f
He considered that he had both time and strength to devote
to the work, and he felt urgently impelled to make a beginning.
Of course, obstacles were placed in his way, and difficulties
required to be overcome. But he persevered ; for three years
he acted as volunteer chaplain at Dusseldorf, six miles from
his own place ; no frost, no storm, ever prevented him from
duly walking that distance to his work ; not even an attack of
spitting of blood, brought on by over-work, induced him to
desist. After working in this and other ways, and accumu-
lating a store of information about prison management acquired
in visits which he paid to all the prisons of the Rhenish
provinces, he commenced, in 1826, the first Prisoners* Society
in Germany, to procure in all the prisons of Rhenish Prussia
and Westphalia the classification and employment of the
prisoners, the appointment of schoolmasters and chaplains,
and the assistance of prisoners after their release. He received
much assistance in this work, and whilst awaiting, in 1827,
the sanction of the government for his proceedings, he again
visited Holland and Frieseland, to examine in detail the prison
management of those countries. Of his observations on this
journey he published an account ; and, in short, through his
initiative and laborious aid, notwithstanding serious obstacles,
he accomplished the great changes on which he had set his
heart.
Pastor Fliedner. 239
Ifc was Fliedner's care for the cbnticts that led to his
introduction to Frederica Miinsterof Braunfela, who had shown
much willingness and aptitude in philanthropic work, and
in whom ho hoped to find a suitable Christian head-matron
for the women's wards in one of the prisons, Frederica was
willing to undertake the duty, if the consent of her parents
could be obtained, but this was decidedly refused. It was a
great cross to Frederica, and she almost trembled to meet the
eye of the stem young Pastor Fliedner, for she knew and
admired his burning zeal, and was sorry to disappoint him.
But to her surprise, he listened to her report with only a kindly
and. quiet air ; he was, in fact, secretly glad of the refusal,
regarding it as an indication from Providence that he might
seek to win her for himself, since he could not obtain her
for his convicts.
Their marriage took place in 1828. The wife was four days
younger than the husband; from her fifteenth year she had
filled the place of a mother to a family of ten brothers and
sisters ; she was pious and good, and for fourteen years she was
a faithful wife to Fliedner, and a tender mother to their ten
children, of whom seven died before her. Besides all this, her
experience, at the head of an institution near Dusseldorf for
the rescue of neglected girls, where Fliedner met with her,
made her in the outset a valuable assistant to him in his
philanthropic work ; and under her husband's direction she set
on foot a society for the care of the sick and poor in Kaiser-
werth, and was a judicious and affectionate superintendent to
Fliedner's other institutions in their earliest and most trying
years.
We come now to the origin of the charitable associations
that have given the name of Fliedner an especial fame.
Whilst labouring in the prisons, he had arrived at the con-
viction that an asylum must be opened where female prisoners
who wanted to reform might be sheltered, and trained, and set
to work, on their release. In 1833 he commenced such an
institution at Kaiserwerth, on no basis except one of faith and
love. A little summer-house in the parsonage garden at
Kaiserwerth was the germ-cell of a vast growth that ultimately
became like a spreading tree, with branches thrust out into
many distant countries. The prison at Werden vomited forth a
woman — Minna — whom Fliedner dared not leave to the world's
mercies. She was lodged temporarily in the summer-house, and
a friend of his wife's, Catherine Gobel, undertook the charge
of her. Soon a second inmate appeared, and the summer-
house became too narrow an abode. It was all very well
in the day time, for the women could exist together in the
240 Pastor Flied/ner.
lower room without discomfort ; but the tiny attic above was too
small for a sleeping-place for three, and, besides, was only
accessible by a ladder. A house was hired, and the good work
went on. Money was always wanting, and generally had to
be obtained by collections. The spiritual care of deeply de-
graded women gave yet greater anxiety ; but of the first ten
inmates, five shewed proof of a change which fully rewarded
the good pastor and his assistants. These latter were multiplied
as the number of convicts increased; the first ^Deaconess'
being assigned to Mademoiselle Gobel about the year 1838.
A penitentiary was ere long added to the asylum, and we
are told that it still exists with between twenty and thirty
inmates.
Three years after the opening of the asylum, Fliedner
founded the first of his Deaconess Institutions. Students
of the apostolic writings find traces of an order of Female
Deacons in the first age of Christianity; but the institu-
tion was unknown in the Protestant Churches. Its revival
had been mooted in Germany in several quarters; but Fliedner's
was the practical hand that accomplished the work.
His own account runs as follows : —
< The state of the sick poor had long weighed heavily on oar hearts. How often
had I seen them fading awaj like autumn leaFOs in their unhealthy rooms, lonely
and ill-cared for, physically and spiritually utterly neglected ! How many cities,
6? en populous ones, were destitute of hospitals ! And where hospitals existed, — I
had seen many in my travels through Holland, Brabant, England, and Sootland, —
I had not unfrequently found the gates adorned with marbles, when the nursing
within was bad. The medical staff complained bitterly of the hireling attendants,
of their carelessness by day and by night, of their drunkenness and other immo-
ralities. Little thought was given to that Hospital chaplains were unknown in
many cases, hospital chapels in still more. In the pious old days chapels had
always formed a part of such institutions, especially in the Netherlands, where the
Protestant hospitals bore the beautiful name of God's Houses, because it was felt
that Qt)d was especially visiting their inmates to draw them more closely to Him-
self. Such spiritual care, however, had now almost entirely ceased. Did not such
abuses cry to heaven against us ? Did not that terrible saying of our Lord apply
to us, " I was sick, and ye visited me not ? "
* Or should we deem our evangelical Christian women incapable or nnwilUnff to
undertake the task of Christian nursing ? Had not numbers of them done wonders
of self-sacrificing love in the military hospitals during the war of liberation in
1813-15? Iff again, the Church of apostolic days had made use of their powers
for the relief of its suffering members, and organised them into a recognised body,
under the title of deaconesses, and if for many centuries the Church had continued
to appoint such deaconesses, why should we longer delay the revival of such an
order of handmaids devoted to the service of their Lord ? The disposition to
active compassion fur the sufferings of others, says Luther, is stronger in women
than in men. Women who love godliness have often peculiar gifts and grace in
the way of comforting others and alleviating their sufferings. It was only neces-
sary that this inborn gift should be aroused and cherished in such women to render
them suitable for the oflice of deaconess, and there must be institutions erected in
whic'i they can be trained for the care of the sick, the destitute, or the criminal.
* These reflections left me no peace ; and my wife was of the same mind with
myself, and of greater courage. But could our little Kaiserwerth be the right place
for a Protestant deaconess-nouse for the training of Protestant deaconesses; a
Pastor Fliedner. 241
place wbere the large majority of the population were Roman Catbolies, where
there could not even be sick persons enough to furnish a proper training school,
and so poor that it could not undertake eren partiallj to defray the great expenses
of such an institution ? And would not those who haid more experience in the care
of souls be more adapted to euch a difficult undertaking than I could t)e ? , I went
to my clerical brethren in Dusseldorf, Crefeld, Barmen, etc., and entreated them
to consider whether they would not set on foot such an institution, of which, in-
deed, those places were in pressing want. But all refused, and urged me to pat
my own hand to the work ; I had time with my small congregation ; and the large
amount of useful knowledge that I had collected on my journeys had not been
bestowed on me by G-od without a purpose. The quietness of retired Kaiserwerth
would be Tory adyantageous to such a training school, and Ood could send thither
the needful money, and the sick people, and nurses too. So we discerned that it
was His will that we should take this burden on our own shoulders, and willingly
offered ourselves to receire it.
' We now quietly looked round for a house for the hospital. Suddenly the
largest and finest house in Kaiserwerth came into the market. My wife had been
confined only three days ; but in spite of this she beset me with entreaties to buy
the house. It was true the price was 2,300 dollars, and we had no money. 1
bought it, howeyer, with a good courage on the 20th of April, 1836, and at
Martinmas the money was to be paid. We listened anxiously in every quarter
where we thought the money might perchance be found, but met with no response.
At length a Christian friend in Dusseldorf, Sophie Wiering, promised to lend us 1,800
dollars. The remaining 500 were very hard to come by, out we put our trust in
the Lord. Then Count Antony Stolberg promised to apply to some friends for
na, and on the 30th of May, 1836, the statutes of a Deaconess Society for Rhenish
Westphalia, which I had drawn up, were signed by the society in Count Antony's
house at Dusseldorf.
* Meanwhile the curiosity of the inhabitants of Kaiserwerth was greatly excited
as to what should be my object in buying the house. When they gradually dis-
covered that it was preparing for an infirmary, an outcry began, at first among the
Boman Catholic tenants in the purchased house. They tried to rouse the
inhabitants in general, and especially the Koman Catholic clergy in the city and
neighbourhood, against us. We bad, however, no proselytising schemes in view,
and the best proof of this was that we had selected the Aoman Catholic physician
for our hospital, because he was the most skilful, although there were Protestant
doctors in the town. One of the latter ran about the place, doing his part also to
excite ill-feeling against our project; '*a number of patients, ill with cholera,
smallpox, and other infectious disorders, would be brougnt into the infirmary, and
the pestiferous air would spread through the whole city. The place would soon
beeome one great lazaretto," etc., ere. I answered calmly, if they would only be
quiet they would soon see that the institution would be of the greatest benefit to
the town, which in fact had no hospital at all.
* We commended our cause to the Lord ; and, behold, ere long He sent us some
bright gleams through our many clouds. On the 1st September I went to the
missionary meeting at Gladbacb, where I found many dear Christians assembled.
At the meeting itself I did not venture to open my mouth for our cause ; but I was
invited afterwards, with a small circle of friends of the mission, to the house of
Antony Lambert, where, after much unreserved conversation, that majestic hymn
was sung, ** Jesus Christ as monarch reigns," to a four-part chorale, unknown to
me, but very impressive. Whilst listening to it my heart was expanded and my
lips unlocked. I told them all our scheme of training Christian nurses. Great
sympathy was shewn, beyond all my expectations, as I was almost a stranger to
those present Early the next morning my friends drove me over to Dusseldorf,
and at parting put thirty dollars into my hands, which they had collected among
themselves. With a heart beating loud with joy, I brought the money to my
wife, whose faith was not less strengthened by it than mine.
* Soon a still greater confirmation of our trust fell to our lot. The most difficult
point of all was to find Christian women adapted to the office of deaconess, and
our search had long been vain. At la^t, a young woman of proved Christian
excellence, Gertrude Beichardt» the daughter of a medical man, was persuaded to
Yol. 11.— No. 43. r
242 Pastor Fliedner.
pay us a risit, in order to contnlt about her own entrance npon the office. For
eereral years past the had assisted her father in the care or the sick, and had
gathered mach experience in the treatment of the bodies and souls of the suffering
and destitute. As she was about to set out homewards without baring come to
any decision, a great packsge arrived by mail. We opened it. and saw with
astonishment that it contained a quantity of beautiful linen, handkerchiefs, band-
ages, and other useful appliances for the hospital. Our dear friends in Gladbach
had sent it. She saw in tnis the hand of the Lord, and about the same time her
second brother, who was a missionary to the Jews in England, and without whoee
adyice she was unwilling to take any step of importance, came to see us, and gara
his approval to her undertaking. Thus, our sister's heart was settled, and aha
promised to come.
* I next journeyed to Barmen and Elberfeldt to collect for the expenses of fur-
nishing, etc., and I found to my shame for my mistrust, a kind reception and
liberal contributions. One lady did angrily show me to the door with the ques-
tion, " Did I wish to set up nuns and convents in our Protestant Church ?" Other
well-intentioned Protestants doubted whether our plan for forming deaconesses
who should discharge the same duties as Romanist sisters of Charity was practi-
cable. Sister Gertrude was to come to us on the 20th of October, but we aid not
like to wait so long. As we say, the ground was burning hot under our feet, until
the hospital was opened. Then the Lord put it into the heart of a Christian
maiden in Dusseldorf, Albertina P., to help us for some months in the housekeep-
ing, though she did not wish to become a deaconess ; While our children's nurse^
Catherine B., offered to act as temporary nurse to the sick people. Thns the
Deaconess House began without any deaconesses. On October 13, the two young
women entered the house, and arranged the ground floor for themselves and a few
sick persons, very scantily ; one table, some chairs with half-broken arms, a few
worn knives, forks with only two prongs, worm-eaten bedsteads, and other similar
furniture which had been given to us, — in such humble guise did we begin our
task, but with great joy and praise, for we knew, we felt, that here the Lord had
prepared a place for Himself.
*But would any sick people come? That was our next anxiety. Then, lo!
on October 16, early on the Sunday morning, came our first patient, a Eoman
Catholic maid-servant, and begged us to take her in gratuitously. Hardly was she
in the house, when one of the tenants occupying another part of the house, a half-
pay officer, hurried to my parsonage and insisted on speaking to me, though I was
in the act of going to my church to prayers, and demanded that the sick woman
should be instantly removed on pain of a summons to a police court. I entreated
him to be calm, and told him I must positively go into the church. He rushed
away to the burgomaster, and there again demanded with vehemence that the sick
woman should be turned out on the spot. The burgomaster, a good and judicious
man, refused to do so, saying he had no legal powers in the case. On this, the
other, in the presence of several persons, called him a fool. The burgomaster was
also an officer of the Landwehr, and as such thought he ought not to put up with
the affront, and sent a brother officer to call the first one to acoount. Then the
tax-gatherer, Peltzer, a well-meaning but timid man, and a member of my congre-
gation, ran to and fro between the burgomaster, the officer, and me, to mediate, and
succeeded in reconciling the former and drowning this sanguinary dispute in one
or two bottles of wine.
* Our first deaconess. Sister Gertrude, duly appeared on October 20, and shew as
soon followed by other aspirants to the office. Shortly before Martin mas, a generous
friend to the kingdom of God lent us, at Count Stolberg's request, the five hundred
dollars that we still wanted. In the summer of 18t37, when we knew not how to
contrive to erect a necessary outhouse at the back of the building, the same noble
friend again lent us three hundred dollars free from interest ; and, in the end, he
gave us both sums as a gift. Meanwhile, there was no deficiency of scorn and
ridicule on the part of the higher classes of Romanists. They declared that, as our
sisters took no vow of celibacy, the whole thing would soon melt away ; and the
burgomaster at first refused to take down the names of the new sisters, because he
was so sure the whole affair would, in a very short time, be at an end. So despised
were we, and a mook to the Boomers.'
The Oreat Oambling Table at Epsom. 243
Sach was the commencemeiit of an institution wliicli now
lias branches in nearly all the quarters of the globe. In 1888
^e first extension of the work of the deaconesses beyond
their own 'Mother House* was made, in the importing of
deaconesses to the Elberfelt City Hospital. Soon afterwards
sisters went out. as nurses in private houses, and to superin-
tend paupers in the workhouse of Prankfort-on-the-Maine.
Applications for others presently came from all sides. By 1842
the ' Mother House * had more than two hundred beds all full,
and more than forty sisters. A farm, an infant school, an
orphanage, a dispensary, and a normal school for national school-
mistresses, were established under Fliedner^s supervision. On
all sides his buildings extended at Kaiserwerth. Books and
tracts for the benefit of the institution were published. Kaiser-
werth became a refuge for all who needed such help of any
kind as deaconesses could give — the destitute, the sick, the
young, the ignorant, the lunatic, and the criminal. Deaconess
institutions were founded in imitation of Fliedner's, by Mrs.
Fry in England, the Pastor Vermeil in Paris, the Pastor
Harter in Strasburg, Pastor Germond in French Switzerland,
"by others in German Switzerland, and by Dutch ladies in
Utrecht. A great central Deaconess House was founded
at Berlin. Moreover, between the years 1846 and 1850,
more than sixty Kaiserwerth deaconesses, trained under
Fliedner's own eye, were at work in twenty-five different
places. He established, also, a training school for young men
in various charitable work. He was a man of almost sleepless
vigilence and untiring energy, travelling about at home and
abroad whenever his work required it. North America,
Jerusalem, Constantinople, England, France, Switzerland, and
Germany were witnesses of his personal labours, and are bene-
fited by his deaconess institutions. He died in 1864.
THE GREAT GAMBLING TABLE AT EPSOM.
^ TT^S only once a year, Julia.'
A ' No,' said Julia, doubtingly, wishing to see, yet for
the life of her not being quite able to see, why ^ only once a
year ' should alter the nature of a thing. ^ And you'll come
back in good time, George ? ' '-—^^
^ Won't I ?' was his reply, as he went on adjusting his collar
by the looking-glass in the shop, and now and then giving a
!^44 The Qreai Oambling Table <d I^som.
satisfied glance at his face and figure generally. 'Won't I ?^
fiignified ' I will' in George's idiom, so Julia was satisfied with
the promise it conveyed — satisfied, that is, as much as she
could be under the circumstances, not very favorable ones for
a little woman with a baby two months old, with a house to
mind, and a shop to mind, and with no very strong belief in
her husband's wise behaviour on his yearly holiday at Epsom.
But, then, what could she do ? George would go, and she was
not the woman to hinder him ' by no manner of means,' she
would have said, as she looked up smilingly at what always
seemed to her, his handsome face. She was not the woman,
certainly, in these days to stand in the way of any reasonable
pleasure for him ! And was not this a reasonable pleasure f
W ell, she could hardly say ; most people seemed to consider
it so. And Julia was apt to think with the crowd. Last year
George had taken her ; — they were just married, and it seemed
reasonable then that they should take their pleasure by going
to the races after the wedding ; it was but a day's trip, but it
was what George called, and what she considered too, a very-
jolly one. There was the ride thither, in what seemed a grand
vehicle on the Derby day, when it was a luxury to get a
vehicle of any kind; and George had driven, while she sat by
his side in her white wedding dress and bonnet, conscious of
looking prettier and of feeling happier than she had ever done
before in her life. There was the great, wonderful crowd of
people, all excited and happy — at least so it seemed to her —
the hundreds and hundreds of horses and carriages, the grand
stands, the splendid pic-nic dinner — such a dinner I Julia
wondered whether that was the way they were going to live
every day ; and then the exciting, bewildering gallop of the
running horses, the pause of straining expectation, and the
shout and buz when Vixen reached the goal first. All this
she remembered with pleasure ; but more than all, George's
company that day, his smiles, his kindness, his pride in his
pretty little woman, as he delighted to call her, his care of her
lest she should take cold on her return.
And now it was a year ago — and the Derby day was no
longer for her. Did she regret it ? Not much in her heart of
hearts; she was a woman of importance in these days, — a
housekeeper — a shopkeeper when George was absent — a wife,
a mother ! Plenty to fill her hands and her heart and her brain
had she now, and there was little time, of course, to think of
holidays or of Epsom downs. But her baby was more to her
than all the running horses in Christendom, her husband was
handsome, and smart when smartly dressed ; her house was
neat and pretty ; her shop was a very small one, but it would
The Qreat Oambling Table at Epaom. 245
some day, she hoped, be larger and better filled with goods ; she
had good health, good spirits generally — ^what was there more
to wish for ? Not much, she thought, and yet she sighed. It
was a very little sigh, but George hoard it, as he was giving
the last twist to his moustache, and he turned round quickly.
Baying, ' Anything the matter, little woman ? '
' No,^ said Julia, half ashamed of her sigh, ^ Nothing. But
how time does go on, George ! ' She was thinking of the
many changes and events of the past year that had come to
her, — wifehood, motherhood, and some other hoods that, like
their namesakes in dress, are as often a blind as a protection.
George did not understand her thought, he was far too full of
the races and himself. ' Time ? Yes ! ' he said briskly. ' It's
time I was off, Tm thinking. You've fixed the veil all right f
That's the ticket!' and holding up his new hat before him
admiringly, draped in its green gauze veil, before he put it on
his head, he gave her a smiling kiss, said 'Ta-ta, litt'e one,'
to the baby, and was gone out of the shop and out of sight
immediately.
' It's only once a year,' said Julia to herself, as she turned
in to the little parlour behind the shop to see that her young
servant was putting away the remnants left from the hurried
meal, half-breakfast half-lunch, that she and George had just
partaken of. It seemed necessary that she should repeat this
phrase, by way of comfort, and yet she was half angry with
herself afterwards for needing to repeat it. It seemed as if
she grudged George his holiday, and he so fond of a holiday,
too. And yet, someway, this Epsom holiday did not please
her, as another kind of holiday might. There were tempta-
tions : there was betting — she hoped George would not bet—
and there was the drink. She hugged her baby afresh as
she thought of the possibility of her husband coming home
^ elevated,' and said, half to herself, half to her baby, ' We
should not like that, my pet !' Such a misfortune had never
yet befallen her; but these were early married days, and she
had heard and seen something of the besetments of men in
l^at way.*
This busy whirligig world is to most people a great mill, in
which to grind stray nothings into money, into bread, into
clothes, into house, fuel, and whatever else is needed or not
needed ; a mill that accepts everything as grist, if the right
sort of brain is put with it. Julia's particular aspect of the
world-mill was a haberdashery shop, and if bread and money
must be hers, the mill must turn to-day, though the master
should be absent. Customers came in, and she had to attend
to them ; several gentlemen asked for green veils, one or two
246 The Great OambUng Table at Epsom.
for gloves ; and Mr. Binns^ tlie sweep^ C€ime too^ at the last
moment^ for a knot of cheap ribbons, yellow and red and blae^
to fix to bis fancy steeple-crowned bat. He bad made bis face
even blacker tban its wont, and bis teetb tberefore sbone all
ibe wbiter, as be langbingly fixed on bis extraordinary bead*
gear, tbat was to be, as be expected, tbe envy and admiration
of tbe race-going world. All tbese customers were in a burry,
and all more or less in bigb spirits, ready to langb and to talk^
if only tbey bad time. Some of tbem were neigbbours, and
amongst tbe rest was Mr. Roberts, wbo lived next door, in a
large, grand bouse of bis own. 'Husband gone, Mrs. Mea-
dows ? ^ be asked in bis curt, insulting way. ' Yes, sir,' was
Julia's reply, given deferentially, for Mr. Roberts was accounted
wealtby, and not too good-tempered. He and bis wife bad
been customers of late at ber bttle sbop, and tbougb Julia
inwardly disliked bim, sbe tried bard to oelieve tbat sbe bad
no rigbt to do so. He was a man tbat few people liked, indeed^
or cared to talk about ; tbere was not mucb good to be said of
bim, but as be was ricb it was well not to speak of tbe evil.
Lately^ be bad invited George to bis bouse, and bad even asked
him to supper one evening, so that George, who bad styled
bim 'a sourish sort of a customer,' and ' a man tbat looks as if
be would like to snap your head off, Julia !' now declared bim
to be ' a regular brick.' Julia did not think bim ' a regular
brick;' tbere was but one ' regular brick ' in ber eyes, and
tbat was George Meadows. But sbe never attempted to reason
npon or to define ber feelings and thoughts about her reserved-^
looking neighbour, and I am afraid could have said nothing
more of her dislike tban that she couldn't abide bim ; but then
sbe would have assured you sbe bad so many things else to
think about.
Mr. Roberts's face did not look any pleasanter when sbe had
said 'Yes, sir,' so she went on to explain a little. 'George
thought he wouldn't be in time, sir, and he ran down to the
omnibus five minutes ago.' ' He might have waited a little
longer, and gone in my trap,' was tbe reply ; ' I told bim so
last night.' Julia wondered mucb to hear this, and admired
Mr. Roberts's kindness and condescension in thinking of
taking her husband. 'At all events, be isn't proud,' sbe said,
to herself, as she smiled and curtsied while banding him tbe
gloves he bad just bought. ' Mr. Roberts is better tban bis
face says,' she thought, as sbe saw bim go out, ' but I wonder
why be wanted George's company, and why George didn't go
with bim ? ' Presently Mr. Roberts went by in bis trap with
two other gentlemen, the trap being, not a dog-cart, but a.
pony carriage that sbe bad often admired, tbe pony decked out
The QrecU Oaimblmg Table at Specm. 247
in streaming ribands and white ear-caps^ and with a large peony
on either side his head^ looking qnite as proud as the gen-
tlemen and Mr. Roberts^ who were in smart attire also^ with,
yellow kid gloves^ light waistcoats^ and gauze yeilSr She/
thought, Yirith a momentary feeling of regret^ how well Greorge*
would have looked in that gay carriage, and have been a»
handsome as any of them — ^far more handsome than the dark-
looking man by Mr. Roberts's side with the heavy gold chain,
the sharp prominent nose, and the keen business-like glance
of the eye. But why was not Mrs. Roberts in the carriage
with her husband ? She answered this question by the reflec-
tion that the Derby day was not a day for ladies so much, and
Mrs. Roberts would perhaps prefer to stay at home, or perhaps
her husband would prefer that she should; that was more
likely, for it was whispered that Mr. Roberts was master
and mistress too. Remembering which whisper, Julia gave
a slight toss of her head, and murmured, ' He shouldn't be
mistress with me.' She forgot how different different house-
holds may be, because of the differing minds and bodies that
govern and dwell in them. She was pretty and young, and
had sufficient self-assertion to be what she called 'spirity/
Mrs. Roberts was not pretty — ^her age was forty, and her spirit
was, if not broken, bent and cruelly twisted. Julia's George
was young and kind-hearted. Mrs. Roberts's George was
thirty-five, and a hard, scheming man, overbearing and selfish.
There were other differences, too.
How busy she was that day 1 More than once she wished
for George to do this or that. Her little servant's head was
3uite filled with talk and thoughts of this wonderful Derby
ay, and she forgot both her duties to the house and to the
baby. The fire was suffered to go out while Julia was waiting
on a tedious customer ; the baby's hat was tied wrong side
before when he was taken for his morning's airing ; and the
saucepan boiled dry and was spoilt. These were minor
troubles ; but when two customers left the shop because she
was too much engaged with another to attend to them, and
she heard that they laid out a sovereign at the shop below,
she regretted George's absence loudly.
Mrs. Roberts was in the shop at the time — a sallow,
withered-looking woman, on whose face was written the word
*^scontent' in very large letters. Julia had offered her a
chair, partly from customary politeness, pcwtly from compas-
sion at her careworn appearance, and Mrs. Roberts had
accepted the chair at once, and had sat down with a sigh that
had a suppressed moan at its ending. Was she so very tired
with her short walk, then, &om one house to the next ? Julia
248 The Great Gambling Table at Epeom.
had thouglit that it was tire of mind^ and not of body, and
lialf nnconsciously she had compared herself with the rich
neighbour^ and had felt a thankful glow that she was the
richer of the two in everything of the most importance. There
was a selfishness, perhaps, in the thankfulness, bat at least it
arose from no wish to perpetuate the comparison. Health,
prettiness, cheerfulness, a kind husband, a child, a pleasant
home, occupation — all these she had ; and yet, if Greorge were
to die to-morrow, much of her wealth would vanish at once,
while Mrs. Roberts's one possession of money wonld be hers,
even more than now, were she to be made a widow. She was
rich when Mr. Roberts married her, indeed he had no property
but what had been hers; and at his death, Julia naturally
thought it would all revert to the wife. But what need to
think of this? Here was Mrs. Roberts seated before her,
looking so old and ill, that it was her death that seemed most
probable, not his. She had asked for a skein or two of sewing
silk, and when these were found she had wanted a little blue
riband to put on a child's hat. Her little niece was with her,
and the riband was for her, she had said. But she had not
paid for it. 'I will send the money to-mcrrow, Mrs. Meadows.
My husband forgot to leave me his purse when he went out,
and I haven't a shilling in the house.' ' No matter, ma'am,'
Julia had replied cheerfully. She would not have feared to
trust the rich lady for many more pounds than she had asked
for shillings, and she had rather wished, indeed, for the oppor-
tunity. And then she had expected that her customer would
go, but Mrs. Roberts had continued seated, and had heard
her hasty remark about her husband's absence.
' I hope you're not ill, ma'am,' Julia ventured at last to say,
as the lady still remained, growing paler and paler, at least so
she fancied.
' I'm not well, Mrs. Meadows,' was the answer, ' I never am
now ; but is Mr. Meadows gone to the races ? '
' Oh, yes, ma'am, he's gone, and it's a fine day for him to
enjoy himself. I want him at home very much ; but he must
have a holiday sometimes, though it's happened nnfortunate
to-day.' She was thinking of the lost customers.
' Yes,' said Mrs. Roberts, in a pre-occupied way, tapping her
parasol absently on the shop floor and looking down.
Julia thought she might be displeased that George had not
accepted her husband's invitation, so she hastened to make
apology. ' I was sorry that he shouldn't have taken the seat
in the carriage that Mr. Roberts so kindly offered him. It
would have saved him expense, and have been so much
pleasanter/
The Great Gamhling Table at Epsom. 249
'Did mj husband offer him a seat in the carriage?' asked
Mrs. Roberts, looking up.
' Yes, ma'am. Mr. Roberts told me so this morning, when
he came to buy some gloves.'
' And he did'nt go with him, you say ? '
' No, ma'am. He went in the omnibus.'
' You may be thankful,' was the answer, to Julia's great
surprise, ' and tell him from me, that when Mr. Roberts invites
to anything, the best word he can say is " No I " ' She said
this in a sharp, tremulous voice, yet with more energy than
could be supposed was possible to her. Julia did not know
what to reply. This was so strange a thing to say; she
doubted for a moment whether the poor lady was in her right
mind this morning. Sickness and neglect brought on queer
fancies, and perhaps this was the case now. Why should
George refuse the society of a man so much above him in
wealth ? It might be a great advantage to him in his business
to have a friend with plenty of money like Mr. Roberts. She
changed the subject. 'The air's so pleasant, it would have
done you good to have gone out yourself to-day, ma'am.'
'So it would,' said Mrs. Roberts, 'but my husband has
other use for the carriage, as you saw — as everybody saw.
When I married, I didn't think I should come to this — to be
left without a penny to spend in my own house, and to find
my carriage used to take swindlers and gamblers to Epsom !
He's going the way to ruin, is my husband. I've long sus-
pected it, and this morning I've discovered it. I've found his
betting-book, Mrs. Meadows, and, though I don't know much
about betting-books, I've seen enough to convince me he's a
thorough gambler, and his friends are the same. But what
remedy have I ? Thank God on your knees that your husband
didn't go to the downs with him ! For he'll not only ruin
himself and me, but he'll ruin everybody that comes near him.
What should he seek Mr. Meadows's company for, but to ruin
him ? I know him pretty well by this time, to my cost, and I
tell you it is so. He would have fleeced him of every penny ;
he's a blackleg and a scoundrel I ' And having said all this
in an excited voice, Mrs. Roberts concluded by falling into a
strong fit of hysterics.
Julia took her as soon as possible from the publicity of
the shop to the little parlour at the back. It had never been
dusted or arranged this morning, for she had been too busy
to attend to it; but this was no time to think of such things.
The poor excited lady demanded all her care for a full half
hour, and when she came to, sufficiently to be quiet, and to let
the tears flow more calmly, she began to talk to her young
250 The Oreat Ocanhling Table at Bpsam.
neiglibonr and impromptu friend of her married griefs and
cares^ and Julia had to listen to many things that it would have
been better never to have named. But Mrs. Roberts's heart
was very full^ and she had had no friend near her for many a
day in whom she could confide. The fountain of bitterness
overflowed, and Julia, with sympathising heart and sorrowful
face, listened to her story and gave ejaculatory consolation and
replies, scarcely knowing what she said, only feeling that it
was necessary to soothe and comfort her neighbour as she beat
oould. Bitter and long were Mrs. lloberts's complaints. Her
husband was miserly, refusing to let her have what money she
needed to support her position in the world, refusing eveoi
needful things for the house, and carefully doUng out the
pence to her, who had so unwisely given him unlimited posses-
sion of her thousands of pounds. Her little niece was just
now staying with her — an orphan, and poor — and she would
£a.in have had the child in her house as her home; but Mr.
Boberts grudged the extra food, and clothes, and medicine
the child had required in the three months of her -stay, and
to-morrow she was to return to her father's relatives in Wales
—poor people who could ill afford to keep her. He was jealous
of her friends, and had purposely offended them all, that she
might be more completely in his power. He even grudged
her the commiseration of her servants, and had given one
woman warning for showing her deference. He humiliated
her before his guests by treating her as a child, and he abused
and ill-treated her in private. A long, strange catalogue of
privations and indignities the young wife hstened to, in the
intervals between snatches of attention to shop and house and
baby and servant, for Mrs. lloberts seemed in no hurry to
depart. What miseries are so miserable and hopeless as home
miseries ? The miseries that arise between two unhappy
contradictory hearts tied together perforce by the chain of
matrimony, and grinding each other like the wheel and the
axle when the oil is gone. Mrs. Roberts's chief complaint^
however, was that there was but one heart in the case here.
And as a climax to these miseries was this morning's dis-
covery, that her money had been withdrawn from the funds to
pay her husband's ^ debts of honour' — more truly of ^dishonour'
— and that he was now staking a large sum, perhaps their all,
upon the running of a horse at Epsom. ^ Why do they talk
of gambling not being permitted ? ' asked the agitated wife^
who, as she proceeded in the capitulation of her troubles^
became again excited. ^ What better is it than the gambling
tables of Hamburg and Baden, this insane betting upon horses r
What is the race^course at Epsom but a great gambling table;,
The Great OambKng Table at Epsom. 2&1
open not only to the rich, but the poor — ^the poorest?
Encouraged by the aristocracy, by the highest in the land—
the Prince of Wales will be there, they say — the Prime Minis-
ter, members of Parliament, the noble and rich — all will be
there, to gamble and to smile at the gambling ! Oh, if they
could but know the misery that comes from it ! the wrong, the
degradation ! Even my husband wasn't so bad till those rogues
of the race-course inoculated him and gave him the betting
fever. And now I suppose he'll never stop till we're both in
the workhouse. It wanted but this to fill up the measure of
his crimes against me. To bet away my money, to gamble it
away on the gallop of a horse's hoof — for it was all my money,
Mrs. Meadows ! But why do I talk ? Wasn't I the first
gambler, when I staked myself and all I possessed on the
lottery of a man's face and a marriage license? I needn't
blame him so much, I was the first fool. But who was the
rogue ? Mr. Boberts, and such men as he is, that made the
law robbing the wife of all she has in that moment of trusting
love and extreme faith when she takes a husband at the altar.
I was told, but I didn't believe it, how it would be. I loved
him too much, and the law takes advantage of a woman's love
in that way, and the Church sanctions the robbery ! I can't
bring myself to believe, Mrs. Meadows — I can't bring myself
to believe that Mr. Boberts contemplated being such a rogue
as he has proved. And yet ' Alas! there were many
more ' and yets ' to be heard against Mr. Boberts.
The unhappy wife went away at last, and Julia bore about
her for the rest of the day an unusual look of care. The little
woman began to wonder how it might be with her in nine
years' time — just the time Mrs. Boberts had been married.
She had brought no money to her husband on the wedding-
day, so that there could be no unjust plunder on his part as a
commencement to a life of love and union ; but if George were
ever to prove a tyrant ? If he were to turn idle and dissipated,
and demand to live upon her earnings, as a master lives "upon
the earnings of a slave, what help would she have ? None,
for she was a wife, a word of wide meaning, embracing some-
times amongst others that of bondwoman in England, if com-
pulsory life-service to a hard master means bondage ; if life
passed in indignity and hardship, and semi-starvation without
help from the law, means bondage; if all work and no pay from
youth to old age, with the bare reward of having performed
your slave-duties, means bondage. But no, it was not pos-
sible I Her George was true and good. He would never
forget to protect and care for her and her baby. He would
never cease to love her. He would eschew gamblers and
252 The Cheat Oamblvng Table at Epsom.
blacklegs. Had lie not already turned shy with Mr. Roberts ?
Perhaps he had had an idea of what Mr. Roberts was !
Seven o^clock came^ and the people were returning from the
great race of the year. Mrs. Meadows's shop faced the hiffh.
road from Epsom, and with the rest of her neighbours she
gazed out at the long stream of carriages and vehicles of all
kinds that never ceased flowing for three long hours. The
horses looked tired and melancholy as they prepared to mount
the coming hill with their unconscionable burdens ; but who
cared for the horses ? Not, certainly, the people whom they
carried along at as rapid a rate as the weary legs of over-driven
animals could manage, the people who were crowded and
crammed in carts and omnibuses and hack carriages of all
descriptions, and were smiling, joking, laughing, shouting, bow-
ing, and posturing to the crowds gathered on the pavement.
It was an amusing sight if the meaning of it could be for-
gotten. The people had been out for a holiday, where wild,
rollicking, careless fun was rampant and fashionable ; where
absurdity crowned itself with paper wreaths and brightly
coloured hats, and amused itself openly with dolls and toys,
with jeers and practical jokes, uproar and nonsense ; where
the highest and lowest flaunted it, elbow by elbow, with the
richest and highest, and where poverty parodied fashion and
gloried in extravagance of dress and demeanour, and was not
ashamed to show that it was poverty, holding up its coloured
rags and paper, and smoking its vile tobacco with an air of
jollity that was infectious, and that fairly outrivalled the merri-
ment of the well-to-do and wealthy. He who had not a
gallant steed to himself, had at least an eighth part of a bare-
boned pony to carry him back to London. He who had not
a new coat, had a ragged one, or a patched one ; and he who
rode not on cushions, rode on deal. What did it matter ? The
steed and the new coat and the cushions had had no better
sight of the races than the bareboned pony and the patched
coat,' mayhap, and if they had, what matter ? A gay heart did
not ask for new broadcloth and fine linen to cover it, and a
man could laugh and joke as well from a sweep's coat as a
lord's. The only thing, or the chief thing was to laugh and
joke, for that seemed the work of the evening for these sight-
seers and pleasure-mongers of the great day of the English
carnival.
And what a sight these pleasure-mongers were in them-
selves ! Here was a carriage load of men with masks,—
masks of noses — red and purple and white noses — we will not
say there were not blue and green ones, but mostly ruddy,
vast, and impudent, giving a wonderfully ruinous air to the
The Oreat Oambling Table at Epsom. 253
faces behind them. Here^ hats garlanded with small wooden
dolls over heads that mast have been somewhat wooden too ;
there, with broad bands, on which the name of the winning
horse was printed in large letters ; here, a van load of men
shouting and bowing to the female spectators on the road side^
some with grotesquely sentimental faces, and with eyes
that spelt out a five- lettered word, the forerunner of all foolery,
too well-known and preached against in the pages of ' Meliora'
to need naming here; and there was a bevy of men with'
pea-blowers, all earnestly engaged in the interesting task of
blowing peas at the bystanders. In this dog-cart a well-pro-
portioned and rather intelligent-looking young man was
shooting an intensely ugly jack-in-a-box into the faces of some
children, who stood open-mouthed at the fun and wonderment ;
and in that, a tall, stout man with grey hair was turning
round the handle of a child^s twopenny toy, with the utmost
gravity that drollery and drunkenness could assume. In this
carriage rolled women with grand dresses, white lace parasols^
white veils, blue dresses, staring crimson dresses, women that
were beautiful, and that would have been more so in other
places and in better surroundings, close by those who were
not so, who were positively ugly with the ugliness of de-
bauchery and sin. Smiles, ribands, red, white, and blue,
paper roses, harlequin attire, pipes, drink, dii*t, excitement,
crime, folly, were everywhere in this rapidly moving crowd.
The froth of humanity was there, very frothy, the wild tindery
side of human nature was uppeimost, the side that when a
spark falls upon it is forthwith in a blaze, requiring the
quenching waters of a gaol or an asylum to put it out. But
there were far other expressions to be seen than those of
jollity or inane merriment. Here and there Julia saw faces in
the crowd that impressed themselves on her memory like a
sorrowful dream, or a tale of anguish. Here and there, again,
were faces that strove and strove in vain to smile and smile
with the rest, and make believe they were happy. Intense
excitement and mental pain had left traces round eye and
mouth and forehead that were not to be brushed away by the
feather brush of folly, and even pride itself staggered under
the labour of putting misery out of sight for a few minutes.
One young man made no such attempt. Pride was dead and
buried for the time with him, and feathers could not well tickle
the nerves of a corpse. He drove on amongst the noise and
crowd with a sharp, pale face, utterly unconscious and unim-
pressed by all that was around him, his eyes fixed on an
unseen something before him that was vast and terrible enough
to fill his horizon with misery^ and that left him nothing eke
254 The Great Gambling Table at Bpaom.
to see. Men jeered at him as he passed hj, but he did not
hear them ; they stared impudently into his ghastly face, bnt
he knew nothing of it ; he was seated in an abstraction of
mental agony that was beyond their reach to disturb. That
he managed to drive clear of wheels and horses' feet, to keep
his course unharmed and unharming, was a miracle ; but he
did it. His servant man, by his side, sat rigid as a statne^
and gave him no help. Perhaps he knew that none was
required, but to Julia's eyes it seemed every moment as if
the reins must fall, the young man must sink down in a
swoon, and the horse bound wildly among the crowd, mad
with freedom. But it was not so. The young man with
his misery went out of her sight like the rest, without any
especial accident. He rolled on like a shadow into the grey
twilight that already began to hang about the distance.
But where was her husband ? He was to be back in good
time, and she had not yet begun to doubt his word. The shop
shutters were put to by this time, the baby was in bed, she
had no other care on her mind, so this care about the return
of her husband had all the more force. It was, perhaps, well
for her that there was so much life and movement close at
hand to divert her attention. People were still returning —
returning ! What an endless stream it seemed I She began
to be a Uttle dizzy with so much whirl and bustle ; would it
ever end ? and would George ever come home ? What could
he be about? Lifting up her head, she saw Mrs. Roberts's
pale face at her upstairs window ; she, too, was watching for
her husband's return ; she, too, was anxious, but with more
reason than herself. Julia almost longed to go up and comfort
her with sympathiziDg words — if words could comfort. At
last came Mr. Roberts's carriage. The pony had lost his
peonies and his ribands and the pride of his neck, and held
down his poor, tired little head as he brought the carriage to
a stand against his master's door. He looked as if he had had
nothing to eat the whole day, and Julia would have pitied him
only that she was so busy looking at his master, who leaped
from his carriage on to the pavement, and threw the whip
towards the man-servant with a face white with anger. His
companions of the morning were not with him. He had
driven home alone, and as he strode up the steps and entered
the great hall door of his house, Julia felt her heart beat with
a sudden terror. What would he do and say to his wife when
he got inside ? But she had other thoughts the next moment,
George's voice was at her ear. ' What are you thinking of?'
he was saying. ' Fve spoken twice to you ; Pm tired and
hungry.' His voice was rather cross^ but she was too glad to
The Oreat Ocmbling Table at "Epsom. 255
see him to think mncli about that; when he had had his
supper he would be all right again.
After supper she asked, ^ And what about the races^ George V
* Ladybird's won/ said he, indifferently ; ' didn't you see it on
the men's hats V ' Yes ; but, George, how have you gone on ?
Have you enjoyed yourself?' ^Oh, all right,' he said; but
his tone did not sound all right. It was dull work to come
home from the races in this way. What made him so
dispirited ? She sat silent for awhile, and he did not seem
inclined to talk. All at once she coloured up, looked him in
the face, and asked, ' George, have you been betting ?' George
threw a quick, startled glance at her. He did not like the
question ; but he managed to answer it with a joke. ' Yes ;
I've bet that you are the prettiest woman out of London, Julia^
and I know I shall win my bet.'
'But, George!'
' But, Julia ! If you will say no more about it, it will be all
the better. What's that lad Biddies been doing all day ? '
Biddies was the errand boy. ' He's been to the downs.
He said you'd given him leave. I saw him come back, just
now, half tipsy. What will his poor old grandmother say ?'
' What she likes ; but she'd better be quiet, and be glad
he'd no money to lose, like some who are older.'
' Like Mr. Roberts,' said Julia, significantly.
Her husband looked at her in surprise. ' How do you know
that Mr. Roberts has lost money ? ' he asked.
And then Mrs. Roberts's tale was told, not altogether.
Julia suppressed some details, but told enough to impress him
with its gravity. George looked very grave, and at length
uneasy and distressed ; and presently he rose up, put on his
hat and went out, saying he would be back in ten minutes.
He was pale when he went out, but when he returned in half
an hour he was still paler. He tossed his hat upon the table,
the green veil was still fastened to it, and as it streamed up-
wards in the fall it caught the blaze of the unprotected gas
light, and was on fire directly. George did not at first appear
to notice the accident, but Julia screamed and snatched the
hat to throw it upon the floor that it might do no further
harm. Her husband seized her by the arm and stamped upon
both hat and veil with a savage earnestness that ensured
the destruction of both. ' Who cares for a paltry hat ? ' he
exclaimed, when she remonstrated with him. ' We're ruined^
Julia. What does a hat matter ? '
' Ruined, George ? What do you mean ?'
' Just what I say. Haven't I spoken plain enough ? We're
mined, and there's an end of it.'
256 The Great Oambling Table at Epsom.
' Oh, George ! You have been betting, then ? '
^ Of course I have,^ he said, snappishly. ^ Did I ever say
I hadn't ? Pve betted with your uncle's money and lost it,
and now you know ! ' and when he had said this he sat down
in the arm chair, put his hands before his face, and remained
silent for a long time, lost in misery, as it seemed.
Mrs. Meadows was thunderstruck. Her uncle's money was
what had been lent to George to commence business with — or,
at least, what was in the bank accumulating to return to him
at the proper time. He would expect some of it very soon ;
he would be very angry when it was not forthcoming, and ho
might demand the whole more quickly than they had expected.
If that were the case, how could they find it ? They would
have to sell up — they would be ruined, as George said. How
could George be so cruel, so dishonest, so weak, as to gamble
away money that was not his own? The money must be
returned, for her uncle could ill afford to spare it. He would
be in difficulties himself, if George did not repay at the right
time. It was terrible ! And the shame of having to confess
how it had gone ; of having her husband, that she had been so
proud of, lowered in the eyes of her relatives ! And if they were
sold up — thrown upon the world penniless — oh, how could she
bear it ? She saw in imagination the sale, the crowd of gapers
and scandal- mongers — the flight from their little home. And
then she thought of the baby and herself, and the tears struck
into her eyes, and for a moment or two she felt too angry with
George to wish to ease his sorrow, to say a word of forgive-
ness. Let him bear his trouble as he could. He deserved to
be made to feel.
But this feeling did not last long, she was far too true and too
loving a wife for that. George had done wrong, but how did
she know his temptations ? What snares had been set for his
feet — what wicked men had been about him — what delusive
hopes had been given him ? So she came near him in awhile,
put her hand on his shoulder, and, leaning over him, kissed
his hot forehead. It was a sorrowful kiss, but it was a loving
one ; and he understood what it meant, and thereupon began:*
to abuse himself, to talk of being unworthy of her, to ask her
forgiveness, to call himself fool, and scamp, and scoundrel.
He told her how it had all come about. The acquaintance
with Mr. Roberts had been the beginning of all this trouble.
Roberts had inveigled him into it, sometimes by the aid of
wine and flattery mingled, sometimes by working upon his
cupidity or cowardice. He had introduced him to his friends,
and they had introduced him to a betting-book, and when
George became afraid, Mr. Roberts always assured him he
Seledions. 257
would see him out of any trouble that might happen. He
had been in this way induced to stake seventy pounds upon
Loosestrife, one of the running horses, and to-day Loose-
strife had been fourth in the race instead of first. The seventy
pounds were gone ; but he had hoped that Mr. Roberts would
be as good as his promise, and lend him the money for awhile.
And now Mr. Roberts was ruined, and in custody ! He had
come home foaming with passion at his losses that day. His
wife had met him on the staircase and had reproached him for
his extravagant gambling, and in his anger he had fallen upon
her and beaten her till her life was despaired of.
' They say he^s lost twenty thousand pounds this last year by
betting upon horses,^ George said. ^Anyway, he's been a
villain to the woman he promised to love and protect,
What'll she do now, if she lives ? There isn't a penny left,
the gardener told me, not a penny. As for him, I hope he'll
have to work with a chain round his middle yet. He deserves
it ! Why should he want to ruin me as well as himself ? My
^Seventy pounds would seem like a drop in a bucket to such
^ks he.'
But it was no drop in a bucket to the Meadowses. Long
and painfully they both had to toil in after years, through the
loss of that seventy pounds. Julia's pretty face became thin
And pale with anxiety as time went on, and George's grey
hairs came early. Both had reason to remember bitterly the
great gambling table at Epsom.
SELECTIONS.
WOEKING CLASS HISTOBY OF 'taJGLAND.
Thie power loom, the steam engine, An increase of 19,000 per annum,
and some applied mecbanios did more Yozkthire (V^est Siding), I80i.. 563.053
to change the social state than the Ee- „ t* fSlf "JS'JIS
formation or the Black Deatji ; and. in- ;; ;; \^tjm'^
•tead of Lutiier, Calnn, or Cranmer, we ^^ ^^^i oq per cent., and Warwi<4,
^.. "^S .^""7^^*' S.^P'*®?*??; ^^ Staflford, Nottingham, Chester, Durham,
Watt. All through the wild and hitherto Monmouth, Worcester, and Salop
desolate North a stir took place, and m showed a nearly equal increase. An
the general movement every industry immigration, almost without parallel,
seemed simultaneously to partake, and j^ ^° ^^^ (^^ years taken place. Of
conoomitanUy with that impulse the ^^^ jj ^ame from aU parts, and Irish,
population did not fail to increase:— Scotch, and English were fused down
LanoBster bad in 1801 693,7S1 into one compact and apparently homo-
» »» \ll\ ,J?S'JS gencous class, Proletarian at all events,
;: im :::::::: iSmIwo and the factory system gave it soUdity
Vol. 11.— i^O. 43. B
258 Selectums.
and BtreDgth. If we consider that, at of the system itself. We shall find
the same time, a great revolution was tracesof it almost from the first. Among,
taking place in the industrial condition the writers upon the subject we have
of the class, and that the handloom treatises from the pen of Sir Matthew
weaver, and the stocking frames, and Hale, 16€3 ; Richanl Haines, Lawrence
cottage industry of all sorts, were soon Braddon, 1722; James Child, 1694;
to become extinct, it will be perceived Thomas Firmin, Roger North, 1753 ;
how great a change was suddenly George Chalmers, 1782; Daniel Defoe-
wrought. Men, women, and children and Richard Burns. In all, or most of
were swept into the factory and the mill these writings, the root of every eubse-
in a mass, and the one great feature of quent evil may be traced from the first,
the nineteenth century became this crea- Roger North mentions the rates at Coi-
tion of a wage paid class. About 35,000 Chester as amounting to 50 per cent,
handloom weavers reeolutely resisted the while the makers of baize paid their
change, and became a gradually pau- labour out of the parochial funds. In
perised class. fact, one thought alone possessed the
Now, what were our Legislature about? ratepayer, and all his ingenuity was cm-
We have seen how active they were ployed either to evade or to utilise his
at previous periods. Here were condi- share of the rate. The administration
tions much requiring their care, no of it was another thing, and did not
doubt. Perhaps they were unable to much occupy his mind. Whatever
prejudge or foresee the consequences of public interest existed was absorbed in
80 novel a case. Perhaps too much the struggle between houses and landsr
occupied in the much more interesting and while they inflicted upon each other
game of in and outs to take notice of mere the heaviest penalties, these belligerents,
social wants. At any rate, it was assumed with equal selfishness and folly, sacri-
that even under such circumstances the ficed the poor. These, no doubt, are
mere instinct of self-interest would, if heavy charges, but they admit of sub-
sufficiently left to itself, supply all wants, stantial proof, and how dearly they paid
and no legislation took place. The emi- for it statistics once more prove : for
grants found their own level, not with- while between 1536 and 1661 the rates-
out loss, and it was not until 1835 that remained nearly stationary at an annual
any official inquiry took place. Let me amount of jE1^,000 per annum, in the
quote the Duke of Argyll as to the next thirty-one years, during which time
result : — * Men and women had been these malpractices existed, they quadru-
brought together into a social commu- pled in amount Self-interest fought
nion of a new sort ; under natural laws, the battle, and self-interest, ever short-
no doubt. But it had not been long at sighted, out-witted itself, and lawyers
work when it was perceived that a whole fattened out of the rates, while paupers
generation had grown up under condi- starved. Everybody got some pickings
tions of mental and physical degeneracy, except the poor. All through this and
and in ignorance ana vice. Many years the many succeeding reigns Acts of Par-
after it bore fruit but it was not until liament multiplied — while confusion of
self-interest itself had taken^larm, and law increased, and rates rose steadily,
the serious riots and turn-outs of Bams- until at the time we now approach 208.
ley, Burnley, &c., &c., showed that in the pound was often reached, and
something was rotten in the State, that land was abandoned and houses shut up
really effective action took place. Of to avoid the rates. Amonff the most
such rioters 900 were at one time con- distinguished writers upon this subject
fined in York Castle previous to the in modern times, were Jeremy Bentbam
assize, a fact which I witnessed myself.' and Sidney Smith, whose views, equallj
During this time, and nearly up to perspicuous and wise far beyond their
these events, the old poor-law remained age, extended not only to the battle
in force; and just in proportion as this then to be delivered, but the true
wonderful expansion of industrial power principles of the campaign. They saw
was manifested on the one hand, so did that to extinguish pauperirm, deeply
the evil of the system and the pauperism rooted and inherited, laws almost penal
it fostered increase. All the supplanted might be necessary at first. They en-
labour at once, and without effort, fell gaged self-interest upon the true line of
upon the rates, and the payment of defence. But at this point they did not
wages out of these, both manufacturing stop; they equally recognised a moral
and agricultural, was a very early effect as well as a material want^ and impo-
re poor-Uwi and barcaiicrttio
tioD to produce Buob bo oHbcI.
Bentham sp«k> thus: 'But oompssaion
is one thing, and relief efficacious and
linmi«chievou« ia unother. I'be one
ma; be alvajB beatowed, and iu any
quantity: Ibe otber should narer be
■tteiDpted to be beatowed, eapeciall; &t
the eipenee ef tbe commuDitj, UDtil
■der tbe moat strict and comprehenBiTe
ioqairj, vhetber tbe undertaliiog lien
within the ipbere of pncticabilitj, and
whether the remoral of the exil be Dot
iaaepirablf connected with more eiten-
iife and no lesi permuient eviL To
baniab not otilj indigence but depeod-
ence it woald be neceiaar; to baDJali not
onlj misfortune but iiuproTidence.'
Words which seem to me replete and
laminoUB with truth, though of a nature
which it is not giren to mere official in-
tellieeoce to penetrate,
Tiew tbe gradoal deetraction of the
■7Stem. ss well ta (he amendment while
it continues lo operate.'
Tbe poor-laws were amended a few
years aubsequenlly to this, end we here
now thirty jcara' eiperience of tbeir
ellicacj to produce eucb a result. Siaoe
Sidney Smilb wrote nearly s bslf oen-
tury has ps^eed, under oircumstanoe*
more fsTourabta than any our history
can preeflnL A time of peace, of free
tndp, of unequalled increiM of wealtbi
of unparalleled emirration, and eduM-
lion more widely diSused. To what
eOect tbe following statietioi will best
eenerallj <x
could
__.^ __.. _._ anoOier
nuthoritj, Sidney Smith. He aays. in
1825, 'A pamphlet on tbe poor-laws
"j oontaina some little piece of
e nonsense, bj which we are
graraly aeanred that this enormoiu eril
can be perfectly cured. The first gen-
tleman recommends little gardens, the
second cows, the third ■ Tillage shop,
and if we add to these the more modern
idee of land sub-diiiaion, we are pretty
well at the end of such a list. As to the
children, they an to be lodged
tbe churchwarden.' 'There are two
points,' he says, ' which we consider as
admitted by sU men of sense. Finit,
that the poor-laws muat be (notimendedj
bat ibofiabed; and, aecond, that they
must be yery mdually aboliabed. We
think it hardly worth while to throw
away pen and ink upon anyone wbo le
inclmed to dispute the aboie proposition.
We abtll think the improiement im-
loense, and a sabject oi tery general
oongntnlation if the poor-ralea are per-
ceptibly diminiabed, and if the ayatem
of pauperism is clearlv going down in
twcnhr or thirty years hence. We haie
slated our opinion that all remedies,
without gradual ibolitian, are of little
importance. With a foundation laid
for such gradual abolition, ercry
auxiliary improvement of the poor-law,
vjAiU thti/ do remain, ia worth the atteu-
tion of Parliament, and in aungeating a
few alterations ss fit to be adopted, we
wish it lo be understood that we haie in
^-1
■^
ii
le same period the emigration
1863 ...61,243 J
Now these were conditions opon which
neither Bentham nor Smith could count,
•n!l to what result? Ia pauperism ex-
tirpated ? Hbtb the rates deoreaaed?
Are poor-laws abolished ? Of it, it
there, under this system, any reasonable
eipactation. ' fiOy years hence?' As a
syatem, it has taken Srm hold of men's
minds, and as a Tealed interest it claims
its place. It is so important source of
patronage and place, and the manage
ment charges are daily on the increase,
la lf>63, salaries, to... £596,162
1863 „ „ ... 696,098
1866 „ „ ... 730,704
Increass in fourteen years, .£134,642.
On the other hand, what bare becD
its efiecte? Morally, upon which so
much stress was oneeplaoed, what men
haa it reclaimed ? Who has it made
ident ? What enoourtgement
t bold <
T?^tZ
by represaioD ; it pauperises; it eiacta
a hard and rigid test. But it is not
eTBD so far a material snoceaa. Are we
satisfied with it? Tested by the
standard of Bentham or Smith, it ia a
failure throughout. How long aha'l we
deceire oonelTes upon this point?
Poor-laws mi; MbWy a present require
260 Selections.
ment, bat tbej cannot core pftoperism csp. 63. Manr of them are of twj
itaelf. Kwemeetamoralenl bjamere ancient date, bat these were rather
administratiTe change, we eeek for the guilda, than proTidmt institationa, for
liring among the dad. I haTe alluded the wage paid claas. For their full de-
to the condition of the labouring classes Telopment we must come up to the nine-
subsequent to the great immigration teenth century, during whidi the num-
which took place into the North; and her has reached 24^, with 3,000,000
here legislation has plajed its part with membera, and £20^000,000 of assets in
greater raooea. The repeal of appren- hand. This, in itsdf, is a most signifi-
tiee laws, and the introduction of the cadTe fact* especiallj when the ctrcum-
Factory Act, f(41owed an inquiry in stances are tal»n into aooount. Left to
1835 to a most beneficial effect. In themselTes, and searoelj eonntenanoed,
education, also, aom» progress has been they could not fail to be open to abuser
made, aided bj* the State. The amend- and knowing as we do the great prone-
ment of the Master and Servant Act, ness to fraud whidi attend all sodi
and the regulation of the agricultural transactions, upon the unwary and the
gangs are efforts in the ri^ direction, weak, it seems wonderful that they
at least The Bill for Artisan Dwelling should hare been on the inerease, or
Houses opecsqusstions of a more serious gained the confidence of tneh. a daas.
dass, and it is doubtful how far such If any of them are by no means ridi,
interference can be carried, without as the following returns suflSoiently
altogether disoounging that tendency proTe--of 10,264 which made returns^
to numerical increase upon which, more there were : —
than ought else, must depend the cheap 3»16l with less than £100 in hand,
house accommodation of the working 4^222 from XlOOtoXoOO
daas. Protection may do harm as wefi 1,602 „ jt500 to XIJOOO
as good in such a case. At this point 903 ,, iC 1,000 to £2,000
our reriew of legislation must cease, for 316 „ £2,000 to £5,000
the present, at least, for there is another 50 „ £5,000 to £10^000
aide to the picture, which I must not 18 „ £10,000 to £20,000
neglect I hare said that during the 12 „ £20,000 to £50^000
early part of the present century bat 3 „ £50^000 to £100^000
little legislation to^k place. Go? em- Among sudi societies the Boyal Liyer
mentwasoutof fashion, and self-interest is a leriathan, and ita progress is in
was supposed to supply the want It itself a remarkable fact, worthy of re-
claimed to be enlightened, of course, cord. In 1861 its assets were £15,092;
We hare seen what, under certain cir- since which its increase has been at the
cumstances, was the result Of course^ following nte: — 1862; £18;004: 1863
Anglo-Saxons wonld not stop at this, £25.630; 1864, £39,036; 1866, £55,460-
and Uught self-dependence, and with 1866, £78,026; 1867, £103,355 ; 1868|
self-interest prescribed as the great rule £132,372. To thehr snoceas there is,
of life, they set to work according to howerer, one formidable obetade^ the
their light, and applied the doctrine to management expenses, and this item
some remarkable effects. They formed does not, as might be expected, decrease
firiendly and co-oneratiTe societies, the in proportion to the number insured,
progress of which I now propose to In ten of the lamst these expenses
trace, and they formed also those trades' amount to from 25 to 50 and 95 per
unions so much now talked of, and cent of the amount expended in relief;
framed moral and social laws to match, of these the largest are the worst, ris.^
These, at least were natural results. As 15s. to 16sl in the pound— a feature
a sodal contract they recognised common which, however, explained, is by no means
interests, which eren seemed to them a desireble one in soch a case, and U no
more noble than sdt As a moral code doubt the result of neglect, or a rioious
it was defectire, but this was also na- sjvtem from the first Unaided from
tnzal, perhans, under the antecedents I without, it could not be otherwise in
hare pointed out this case. Nothing, perhaps, can show
The first of these friendly sodeties the necessity and adnrntage of a sounder
iras recognised by law in 1793, and since system (though hj no means unexoep-
thst date we haTe had twenty-dx diflbr- tionable in itself, and partaking of the
^ Acto to regulate and amend these eril pointed out) than &e success of the
~y the whole of these are now Post^oiBce Sarints* Bank, the number of
te Aok 18th and 19th Tie^ whidi between lS61and theendof 1806
8elecUon$.
261
had increased from 2,535 to 3,509 ; the
namber of depositors from 639,216 to
5,421,066; while in the old and new
sayings' banks, at the close of 1866, the
namber of depositors amounted to
2,149,764, and the deposits to
X44,495,806 — facts which seem to me
clearly to indicate the future coarse, and
the necessity of authority to guide and
direct the effort, and to protect the
weak. AH that is ever urged against
these societies tends to such a point.
They are the speculation of a cleyer
knave, or for the benefit of a public-
house. What else can we expect, and
whose the fault, if this is the case ? Is it
a new featura that idleness should prey
upon industry, or that a man should put
his brains to the worst possible use ?
Does not society guard itself with all its
power against such abuse? That we
know it may be otherwise is enough.
In such eminently sucoessfal undertak-
ings as the Essex Provident Society,
with 8,000 to 9,000 members, and
X70,000 assets; the Hants, with 3,000
members, and £35,000; the Hereford
Friendly Society, the Shropshire, the
Wiltshire, the Kutlandshire, the Lois
Weedon, and the Beau Manor and
Woodhouse, we see the true results of
Boand principles, and great and philan-
thropic efforts of good men, whose
genius has thus enriched others, and
whose reward is not of this earth. Bat
society which applauds should do more
than this, or it abrogates its highest
task. — The Past^ Present t and Future of
the Working Classes. By F. 8. Corrance,
Esq,, M.P. Bead at Iwnoich, before the
British Association.
JAMES BELL, THE INNOCENT CONVICT.
James Bell, aged 21 years, who has
recently be-n liberated from Pentonville
Prison, has made a very remarkabls
statement as to his treatment while
undergoing a sentence of penal servitude.
He was convicted of stealing twelve
lambs, his identity being sworn to by
three policemen. It has since been most
conclusively proved that he was in bed
at the time stated, and the really guilty
man has been captured. Bell complains
that when he was first taken to the police-
station for the purpose of identification,
instead of being placed with other per-
sons he was put in a cell by himself, and
the three policemen were then brought
in. Bell's story is as follows : —
' On Friday, the 26th of last March,
I was in the dock of the Middlesex Ses-
sions, and I heard the foreman of a jury
say, "We find the prisoner guilty of
stealing twelve lambs.'* Of that crime
I was entirely innocent, and I was found
guilty upon the evidence of four police-
men. Three of the constables swore in
the most positive manner that they saw
me in the broad daylight, at five minutes
past six o'clock in the morning, driving
the stolen lambs along the Farringdon
Bond. One of the men swore that he
had spoken to me while I was driving
the lambs, and that he had walked by
my side for very nearly 200 yards. You
might almost have knocked me down
when I heard the word " Guilty" of a
crime of which I knew nothing. I cried,
and I placed my hands together, and I
looked up to heaven and to the judge,
and I cried out, " I am innocent." I
was going to say more, when one of the
warders, who had during mv trial been
standing by my side, laid hold of me by
the left arm and dragged me out of the
dock into a narrow passage. Another
warder came up to me and said, " Have
you anything about you?" and I an-
swered, »• No. " He ran his hands down
my clothes, and he said, '• Come along,"
in a civil way. He put me into a white-
washed cell. It had a stone flooring,
and there was an iron grating on the
floor of the cell, and I had to walk over
it. It was a three-cornered cell, and I
had about eight feet to walk up and
down, and wfdk up and down I did, for
I was very downhearted, for I had never
seen the inside of such a place before.
After I had been in the cell about an
hour (it seemed a very long one to me),
a warder came up to me with a brown
loaf. It weighed about six ounces. That
was my dinner. I had no wafer with
that dinner. I was hungry, for I had
been fasting from eight o'clock in the
morning, and it was then long after two.
There was a wooden bench in the cell,
and I tried to sit on that, but I could
not contain myself, and I could neither
262
Selections.
sit down nor lie down. I first sat, I then
lay down, and then I used to get up and
walk up and down. At five o'clock the
Tan came* and a warder came up to me
and said, "Come on," and when I left
the cell I saw a joung man getting into
the police-yan. We were taken to the
Colabath-fields Prison. I there saw a
policeman, and I said. "I am innocent."
He laughed, but said nothing. I was
then taken through a large gateway, and
I stood there for some minutes; and
while I was standing there another pri-
soner came, and that made our party of
prisoners up to three. We were then
taken through another gateway to some
more prisoners into a room. I sat there
for some minutes, and I was giyen half
m pint of gruel and about Goz. of brown
bread. It was rather thin gruel, and of
a dirty white colour. It was given to
me in a rather rusty, dirty, tin bowl,
which they call a pannican. After I got
mj supper, as they call it, all my cloth-
ing, with the exception of my trousers,
was taken off. The clothes were .searched,
and the only thing tliat the warder found
was my ''bail paper." He took that
away. I was taken up a flight of stairs
mnd into a largo long room, what they call
a dormitory. Down the room there were
two rows of matting, stretched from the
wall to a bar running up the middle of
tlie room. They were our beds. We
had a blanket and a rug. I got into my
bed. On the matting there was room
for about fifty people. I laid between
two men, and my feet very nearly
touched Uie head of another. I could
not sleep, and during the night I heard
the other prisoners snoring, and I was
thinking over U^e way in which the police
•wore my liberty away. There was a
wanler siVting on a stool in the middle of
the room, and no one was allowed to even
whisj>er to another. There was a gas-
light in the n^om. and by tlie light of it
1 saw the warder Noting a comfortable
•u pjM^r ns he watched us. It was a weary
night to n\e. and I was glad when morn-
ing c.'^nie, .\s none of the prisoners
wt»rt» allowotl to get off their mats until
a quarter to six, I had to lie still until
then. .Vrter dressing we were taken
ilow!^«l»ir» into the r\K»m when? we had
all boen the pr<>iHHling night. For two
luMir* wt» sat here and Kn^ked at each
o^he^ At eight oVKvk a waller brought
me a h\af ^^^«^^ «"*^* half-pint of gruel.
A<W hriHikfti»t I tVU wv hungry. A
III «f ward«4i» Ihen came into the room
"^ " l4i>WK^*>u«lo««wbtthwrfr»
were *'old friends." None of them
recognised me, and no wonder, for I
bad never before seen the inside of a
prison. The doctor then came, and he
asked me if there was anything the
matter with me, and I said *' No," for I
was then a healthy, strong young man.
He said nothing, but walked on. The
governor then came and looked at us,
and he walked away. I was then taken
into the bath-room, and bathed in warm
water. When I came out of the bath I
found that my clothes were gone, and
the prison suit was in their place. I was
then taken to be present at the labelling
of my own clothes. I was then taken
back into the reception-room. I was
there given a sheet and a coarse towel,
and I was then taken and weighed.
They did not tell me what I weighed,
so I don't know. I was then measured,
and then I was taken to a warder, who
placed me in a cell. It had a black
concrete floor, and I had to keep that
well poli.shed with a brush. It was
about eight feet long and five feet wide,
and about pine feet high. There was a
small window in it, and it had bars in
front of it In the cell there was a
hammock, a blanket, and a rug. There
was also a small stool and a small wooden
table. In one comer of the cell there
was a closet, and when the door was
open there wss a smell from it On a
small shelf I found a Bible and a book
of prayer. There was a bell handle in
the cell, and the warder said, *' If ever
you are taken bad at night, ring that"
There was a gaspipe hanging from the
walL The warder locked me in and
lefK At one o'clock a warder brought
me a pint of gruel and a loaf. At three
I had to go and get some oakum to pick.
At that time I had not been sentenced ;
and at five o'clock I got a pint of gruel
and Goz. of bread. At nine o'clock I
went to bed. That completed the diet
for the first day. Three times that week
I got the same diet Two of the other
days I got 4os. of meat and half a pouzd
of potatoes, and a 6oz. loaf for dinner.
On the other two days I got a pint of
pea-soup and my bread for ainner.
Svinday was a soup day. That was the
usual routine until the next session, when
I was brought up before JSir W. Bodkin,
the judge. He told me that he would give
me a week to consider whether I would
tell who my accomplices were. I said,
*'I can tell you nothing, as I know
nothing about it" He said, •' You are
aa ungrateful and an incorrigible thief;
Selections.
263
-and the sentenoe I shall pass on you will
be that jou be kept to penal seryitude
for fi?e years." I then asked to see mj
parents, and the judge granted my re-
•^uest I was taken out of the dock, and
cried. As I was going down the stairs
the warder said, *' I'll kick you down.**
I replied, "I'll go down. Fm not a
thief.*' He then placed me in a cell,
and I was there visited by my father.
The warder then said to my father,
" Well, your son has come to something
now, by his sheep-stealing tricks.**
Father said, **My son is innocent; you
are a liar.*' I said, "Well, father, years
ago, I should have been hanged for this
crime." Father said, "Never mind,
bear up and go through it. The punish-
ment tnat you have got we shall not leave
a stone unturned to alter. Your brother-
in-law is looking out to find the real
thieves.** He wished me " Gk>od-bye,**
-and left. I was taken back to the House
of Correction, where I was put in the
same cell, and I found a pint of gruel
and a loaf on the table. *' Is this all,"
said I, *'that I am going to have for my
dinner?" The warder then asked me
how long I had got, and I said, " Five
years.** He at once brought me 4oz.
of meat and half a pound of potatoes.
He took away the gruel, but he left the
^z. of bread. The cell was dark and
gloomy, and I asked to be taken to
another celL They took me to another
one. I was told that I was now on first-
class diet, and I got a pint of gruel and
a loaf weighing 6oe. tor supper. For
breakfast I got a pint of cocoa and my
loaf. On first-class diet there are no
gruel dinner days. There is a pint of
pea-soup three times a week, ana eight
ounces of potatoes — they are not peeled,
and some of them are bad. I have been
often so hungry that I have eaten the
bad ones. Sunday is still a soup day.
The next day, at seven in the morning,
I was placed on the treadmilL It was
a quarter of an hour on and a quarter of
an hour off. It makes the legs stiff and
tired ; it is very hard work. You are
* not allowed to turn vour head ; if you
do you get bread and water. I became
weary, and once turned my head, and I
got bread and water for one day. Twice
after that I turned my head ; on each
occasion I got bread and water for one
day. The bread consisted of 18oz. for
the whole day. When I turned my head
I neither smiled, looked, nor spoke. I
was six months in priaon, and during
' the whole of that time I never said a
word to anyone. The silence was hor-
rible, and I have not yet got over tha
effect of it It was shocking not to ba
able to speak to anyone, or even to turn
one's head. While in Goldbath-flelds I
only wrote one letter, and that was to
my family, to know how they were get-
ting on with the sale of newspapers. I
had been in the newspaper business for
the last ten years. On Sunday, all the
prisoners are taken to the church in the
prison, where they listen to preaching
for an hour and a half on the Word of
Gtod. In about two months I was shifted
to the Model Prison in PentonviUe.
The diet is : Breakfast, three-quarters of
a pint of cocoa and half a pound of white
bread ; dinner, 4oz. of beef, a pound of
potatoes, a pint of the liquor m whioh
the meat was boiled, and 4oz. of bread ;
supper, a pint of gruel and half a pound
of oread. That is on Monday and Tues-
days. On Wednesday I got one pint of
soup and potatoes for dinner. The other
days were much the same. While I was
there I had to pick three pounds of oak-
um every day for a lengtn of time. It
was too mucn for me ; I could not do it.
I was then put to sewing braces. After
that I had to make mats. I was reported
for talking once. I whispered to a man
who was sitting next me in church,
and we were both put on a pound of
bread and water for a whole day. While
I was on the bread and water I was kept
in a cold (separate) cell for twenty-four
hours. The authorities never informed
me of the fact that the real culprit had
confessed two months ago to tne com-
mission of the crime for which I was
unjusUy suffering ; and during the whole
of that time I was still kept to hard
labour, and was even punished by bread
and water, although they were aware of
the fact of my entire innocence. Until
last Saturday I knew nothing aboat the
fact of my innocence having been proved,
until I was suddenly brought out into a
passage and saw Mr. Guerrier and mj
Drother-in-law, George Edds. They told
me that they had the order for my re-
lease, as they had succeeded in proving
that I was an innocent man. When mj
family found that they were in a position
to prove my innocence, my brother-in-
law sent me a letter, telling me what had
been done, but it was sent back, and I
was not allowed to see it I never heard
of that letter until I came out When
I left PentonviUe Prison I was suffering
from the effects of illness. One Friday,
while I was making mats, I was sod-
264
Sdedums.
?US OL. IW IC3. 3$ ICV off
jaii is .:» 4a£a» »v:
I .aKuK^ nrivic vail bisurr I
f"! «*C ST -
»ir w» '^-'cw. !*»:
<r-iKw aai I
* «
Q;^ ^
^M*a. V %«e^ ^?V<I^ V 'tew 3W
I >»%x KN ,r»«r(i^ :k<ii u^ I «^ ittCi^iahi
%V«^ ; K%«c A.vvi x%*ML Ui*^ I 4«« «v
liUi vx^jk ^v-cv >^*aju \V? »wt «* »-
<H»Jl*iv> »v^i»k I ««i XHU -..^ X^
a pairof boots I
aid t&at Bj ova vcre better, and I
for tboa, and iher told
liber bad «oLd mj booto for 2k'
Xbr £ui% of 'the wnfortiiBatP JOOB^
alflMKt mxBed bj the
^TForbiadefinca
ibeir funiture. and
before be
So
tbcBi of the
;■»>
tboM thai
of Jamea
raited in
knt them
ought to
pKt wfearh he took in bringing abooft
ifte hwcT rciiuls spent on their behalf
^1^ His 3aa» ia Mr. BcndalL He it
v^ int oftrfii a remard Ibrthe
of the ical dnensL Mr.
ibrvard, and he
xiotoxioa
S^ one gf pciaonviU eone to X90Q.
W!i«n;he real thiew were ducovcnd,
oe pcnccM vha owned the lambs ra-
f^aeil ^^ Lawecuu Aem. and the BeUs
wre moa in/bnned tlvt, before thcj
Miti«i aecvnr the hbenlion of Jamei»
tOtfv Buc ind the moner to nraeeeota
tibr'maevcs^ That they had to do. Thej
ST oac vaa twt iBrd. and thai it
jo!j«a tb« was: o/ a pnblic proaeeutor,
«^ vuvui pcovidp the monej tor saeh
W« ciw bek^w their narralires of
UMtr nrienttrw in ^nast of the thieves.
T!WB of ^c«c^ £ids» the brother-in-
A« cf &tL » as curioQS as it is inters
who^. I: BBT be as vaD to slate that
&Akb ». IJbe b&L a man in humble
j^Jlbtr^ bus *^ poMamd of good intelU-
MOkV sad vjodnrfttl tenaeitr.
^WVnw foond.*s^ Edds, *that
J43Mȣ^ bad been sentenced to five
v«an' woal Mrritude and separation
^Ntt oa feaaauT for a crime that he had
w«w <ca»i:tMd. ve pledged our vords
l» him :hel w voaJd leave no stone
anturMd m prjw bis innoeenee to the
wni ssd accore bisrtUim tofreedom.
CHtf tadt wm a hard one, for all ap-
pMRd t(> be againrt him. Whan wa
«aw him in b» cwU. after the judge had
Itfii him that he wm an inoorngible
tbeC he vnwrviBf bitterij, altboogb for
•Mi# txBiw vbik bis lather was present*
W sMie even- effort to keep up. The
JMCts^of the warders at his grief, and
U iiBi ^JMatlfmi of our beiiefin his
Selections.
26&
innocence, made us feel as if our task
vraa altogether a hopeless one ; but we
had made up our minds that, cost us
what labour or time it would, right
should be done, and we left him with
the assurance that before many months
had passed he should be with us once
again. We were all rather sad that daj,
and we returued home. When there,
we held a sort of meeting of all our
family and a few of our neighbours.
We knew poor James was innocent, so
we did not talk much about that, and
we set about talking of the best waj of
getting evidence to proTe that he had
never stolen twelve lambs that he had
never seen. While we were talking
over this matter, a joung woman ran in
to tell us that she had told Bell's mo-
ther that her son had got five years,
and that when she heard it she fell
on the ground insensible. The young
woman said that she believed that
she was dead. That stopped our
first meeting; but Bell's mother was
not dead, she had only fallen in a ^t.
Shortly after a woman sent in three
shillings, and she said that that would
pay for the printing of a hundred bills
asking for information that would lead
to the discovery of the real thieves. We
ourselves were out of money, for we had
spent all we had in paying lawyers to
defend him. When we were about to
get the biUs printed, Mr. Bendall, a
ouse agent, said that he would put
** jCIO reward " at the top of them, and
he asked the acquaintances of the thieves,
too, if they knew anything about the
stolen lambs, to call up for the money.
The bills were printed, and we put them
up in a hundred different places on the
same night that Bell was sentenced.
The first night I went out,' continues
Edds, • I went after the master drover
who save evidence against James. I
thought from his way in court that he
was a thief, and I was not wrong. He
had a mean look, and he used to hang
down his head when he was passing by
any of our family. He was keeping
company with a young woman, and I
have often been tired out following
them. I thought that they would never
stop talking and walking. They used
to walk down John-street Eoad, on to
Shorediteh, and then back a^ainall round
Islington. What they talked about I
could not make out, and I often thought
that he might say something to her
about the lambs. One night I saw them
go into a public-houae. I was afraid to
follow them, for I knew that that would
stop their conversation. I stood out-
side, and while I was waiting I saw a
poorly-dressed young man sauntering
along the road, and I went up to him.
and asked him would he have a drink.
He said "Yes," and I then told him
that I would give him sixpence if h&
would go into Uie public-house and tell
me what the drover and his sweetheart
were talking about I said to him^
" Get up to them as close as you can,
and listen to all they say." He said he
would. This was in the John-street
Koad. In half an hour he came outr
and he said, **He is telling her how
he's looked at in the market with an
eye of suspicion, and some of the
drovers say that he knows more about
it than Beil did. That's all I could get
you." I gave him another sixpence and
went away, for it was twelve o'clock at
night. For a whole fortnight I kept
watching those two, night after night.
Then Mr. Guerrier came into the field
and offered JSlOO reward. He came
with me some nights. The drover after-
wards got four months' inaprisonment
for lifting a lady's mantle on a draper's
door in the Hollo way Road, and handing
it to his sweetheart, while he was taking
an evening walk with her. She, poor
girl, also got imprisoned for taking the
present from her lover. One is in Cold^^
bath-fields, and the young woman is in
the Westminster House of Correction.
While we were watching I frequently
went into from^six to ten public-houses
every day. Sometimes by going in with
other people, and paying for what they
had, I was able to avoid drinking even
ginger beer, for I never drank anything
else. During the time I was engaged in
this anything but pleasant work, which
lasted five months, I went into 270 pub-
lic-houses— not bad for a teetotaler — and
I saw in that time twenty working men
thrown out of public-houses, after they
had spent all their money, and had be^
come insensible from drink. They were
generally caught hold of by the throat and
the shoulder, and the landlord or his bar-
man used then to throw them out on to
the flags. I have often heard a dull, heavy
thud, caused by the n;ian's head falling
on the stones. Some of the barmen
used to say, **Pi|^y people don't know
when they have enough. They never
do — they are so ignorant." Shortly
after Mr. Guerrier came to our assist-
ance, we received a letter from one ot
the men who stole the lambs, but he did
266
Selections.
not ^ye his name. The letter was Torj
short, and it was : *'I stole the lambs,
and not James Bell. Get up a memo-
rial to the GoTemment, saying that he
is innocent I bare written to the judge
and to the police-sergeant, to tell them
so. Send you 2s. worth of postage
stamps, and I shall send you more when
I can." There was no clue given to the
writer of the letter, and it had been post-
ed in the General Post Office. We tried
to find out where that letter came from,
but failed. We gave it to Mr. Guerrier,
to see whether he could trace the hand-
writing. In about a week another letter
in tlie same handwriting arrived. It
was : — " Bell, — I hear that you have
given my letter up to Mr. Guerrier,
and only that you have done so X should
have given you more assistance; but
now, it' any one come near me, I shall
put a knife up to the handle into them "
That was all he said, and he still with-
held his name. I then went round to
several of the post-offices, and asked
whether any drover had lately bought
two shillings worth of postage stamps.
They were civil, and they said at the
offices that they had not noticed any
one. In trying to trace the letter, there
was one drover that we came across
whose writing we thought was the same,
and we watched him tor a month, and
one Friday we went up to him, and
said, " You know something about this,
and we have sent for a warrant for you."
He replied, " Good , I know no-
thing of this, I am as innocent as Bell ;"
and he cried. We afterwards found
out that he had nothing to do with it.
On the following Friday he was on
Clerkenwell Green, talking to several
men about the arrest of three men for
sheep-stealing at Tottenham, when a
young man came up and said, ** What a
shame young Bell should get five years
for nothing. I know one of the parties
that had the lambs." One of the men
said, *' Do you? then it's .£100 for us, if
you toll." The young man replied, ** I
nave opened my mouth too wide," and
he ran down the street, and several of
the men ran after him, and they dis-
covered where he was employed. They
then told us what he said. We were
three days trying to find out that young
man, for he threw up his employment
when he heard that detectives were after
him. We passed him one morning at
two o'clock returning from the Britannia
Theatre, where he told us he had seen
"All is Not Gold that Glitters." Here-
fused to tell us anything, but after boq^
persuasion and threats ne oonsentad to
go to a solicitor's in the miming. Ha
went, and his statement was written.
down, and he said in it that Daly was
-the thief, not BelL The police weca
then applied to, and they refused to
give any assistance, saying, ** We have
got the right man in Bell, and we will
do nothing more." Common polieemfln
used to stand on Saffron Hill and la^ to
ns, *' The walls are high. Three pofiee-
men have sworn against him, and yoa
can't get him out, and yoa shan't get
him out" We sent a letter to Bell
to tell him that his innooenoe was
nearly proved, and to "Trust in
God, as He is the great deliverer."'
That letter was sent on the 3rd of Jun^
and was returned to us from Pentoih-
ville Prison the next day, after it had
been read by the Governor. It was
endorsed—" Memo. 5,546. James Bell
will not be entitled to receive a letter
until the 18th of November, 6S. 4^(^
68. GovEBNOR."— The next part was to
go to Tottenham to the hearing of tho
three prisoners. Two of the prisonen
had to sign their names, and one of
their handwritings corresponded with
the letter that we had received. Ha
vras the guilty man, and he has sines
got five years. His name was Dal^,
and he afterwards confessed to lir.
Guerrier, while he was in the House of
Detention, and in it he implicated
others, but fully cleared BelL The
police were again applied to, and ths^
still persisted in refusing to ^re us anj
assistance. Several of the inhabitanti
of the neighbourhood then ffot up a
public meeting on Clerkenwell €meii»
" to protest against the injustice of keep-
ing an innocent man in prison when it
was known that he was innocent" The
meeting was a crowded one, and several
very long and loud speeches were made.
The police told us that we should have
to prove the guilty parties guilty before
we could get Bell out £ven after
Daly's confession we were told that wo
should never have him out The ooq-
sequence was, that we determined to
give Winter into custody. We arrested
him at a slaughterhouse m Whitechapel,
and then we took him to Inspeotor
Thomson, at Scotland Yard. The reason
that I arrested Winter was that I had
heard that it would be necessary to cap-
ture and convict everybody oonoemed
in the stealing of the lambs before I
could get Bell out. When I got Wintor
Selections.
267
the police for the first time gare me the
use of a constable, and be went with us
to Scotland Yard/
Mr. Bendall states that, belieying in
the innocence of Bell, be exerted him-
self to procure eyidence which would
establish the fact to the satisfaction of
the authorities. He visited innume-
rable public-hous&s, choosing by prefe-
rence the least respectable. The haunts
of the lowest class of drovers, roughs,
and bad characters generally were the
most promising with regard to the end
in view, but visits to such places were
not always unattended with inconveni-
ence, and even danger. * On one occa-
sion,* says Mr. Eendall, 'while in a
wretched public-house amongst all
sorts of people, and while attending
carefully to what was being said aU
around, I noticed one man whom,
from his appearance, I judged to be
a likely person to lift sheep. I, there-
fore, walked towards him and invited
him to have a drink. I got into con-
versation with him, and gradually in-
troduced the subject of sheep. All
appeared to be going on right enough
until I somewhat incautiously spoke of
Bell and the twelre lambs. He instantly
took the alarm, and eyeing me with
great suspicion from head to foot, he
appeared to come to a conclusion the
reverse of complimentary. Ho looked
me full in the face, and cried out in a
voice that struck upon the ears of
everybody in the place, '* He is a
detective." The public was instantly
in an uproar. The cry of " The detec-
tives ! the detectives !" was raised by
nearly everybody in the place, and they
all began to crowd round in a most
threatening manner. I did not at all
feel intimidated, although I will confess
that I remembered very distinctly at
that moment the ezpreieions in the
letters promising the knife to anybody
who was too inquisitive with respect to
the stolen lambs. I knew how to deal
with them, however, and I kept quite
cooL I took no notice of the others,
but I said to my man, " What a fool
you are making of yourself. I am no
more a detective than you are. Toa
have been drinking too much." The
obvious truth of this last remark made
them give me credit for that of the
other. The affair blew over, and I
quietly slipped out of the house as
soon as possible.*
After Daly's confession, the labours
of those who interested themselves in
the matter were not lightened. There
were two others of those implicated in
the crime still to be discovered. From
the attitude taken by the police it was
pretty evident that nothing short of the
conviction of the whole gang of the real
criminals would suffice to secure the
liberation of Bell. The question was
how to get hold of the two rascals still
at large. Acting on the principle of
setting a thief to catch a thief, four
members of the profession were dex-
terously appealed to, and were promised
j£5 each if they would get the required
information. They got a sovereign on
account, but they seemed loth to act in
the matter. When pressed they stated
what seemed to be true enough, that
they were afraid they would get the
knife if they did not mind what they
were about. Their scruples, however,
yielded to a higher bribe and solemn
asseverations of secrecy — one of them,
who is known, has received a free
passage to America and j£lO. The
result of this diplomacy was shown in
the conviction of the three thieves at the
Middlesex Sessions. — Morning Star.
ORGANISATION OF THE DESTITUTE POOB AND CEIBilNAL.
Let us now briefly apply these plans
and principles, beginning with the
criminal population. Men and boys
belonging to this class must be made to
understand, through the medium of
friendly meetings, at which no police-
man should be allowed, that measures
are being taken for offering all who will
JUMsept it honest employment with cheer-
ful amusement, but that far closer watch
will be kept on kno^ n and suspected
thieves, and far longer and severer
punishments will shortly be inflicted on
those who, still preferring a life of
enme, are convicted and sentenced. At
these meetings the men themselves
should be invited to state their own
wants and wishes, and the aim should
268
Selections.
be to adopt and sapplement their Tiews,
when reasonable, as far as possible.
Those who are willing to live honestly
and to work must then be enrolled in
CTonpSy clubs, or societies, with presi-
dents or captains over every ten, fifty,
and a hundred members, great care being
taken to make both them and their
former companions know that none of
these reclaimed criminals will be invited
or, indeed, allowed to give information
incriminating their associates for past
offences. As fast as you gain any influ-
ence over them, you must endeavour to
make good your ground by uniting them
with some kind of organised society.
Meetings of a similar character should
also be held for inviting the honest
roughs and unemployed poor to join a
society or club in their neighbourhood.
English labourers, as well as artisans,
are already accustomed to organisation,
to some eitent, by their friendly socie-
ties and benefit clubs. By thus ga-
thering these chaotic individuals into
organised groups, you will be able by
degrees to awaken in them an esprit de
carps — an attachment to, and a pride in,
the society or community in which they
are enrolled. May not men in a condi-
tion not more anarchic and hopeless
than the early settlers in Rome, the
Anglo-Saxons when the Danish deluge
was rolled back, Florentine ciompi m
the Middle Ages, or French sans-cvdoUes
during the wars of the Revolution — ^may
not our criminal and destitute popula-
tion be brought to care strongly for a
society of which thoy are the organised
members — to care for it, not to the
heroic or death-point, perhaps, but suffi-
ciently to call forth much of their better
nature ? For this purpose, however, it
would be needful, first, that there should
be a simple natural organisation into
which they can easily enter ; secondly,
that this organisation should form a
society or community which they can feel
some pride and find some joy in belong-
ing to ; thirdly, that they uiould have
the hope and the chance of gradually
making that fellowship, club, or com-
munity more worthy of honour, and
more capable of affording honour and
joy to those who belong to it.
In like manner, there must be a
system introduced into these groups or
communities, whereby, on the one hand,
men deserving of trust and honour
should receive it; and, on the other,
unworthy conduct, especially violation
of the law, whether of the State or the
society, would be instantly denoonoed
and punibhed. By the Saxon system of
* Frank-pledge,* and on which I deairt
to lay great stress, not only would every
man be answerable for his neighbour,
but the whole community would b^
liable for the misdeeds of a single mem-
ber. In fact, there is true fellowship, a
veritable corporate society, only in pro-
portion as the members are thus bomid
together, so that if the hand offends the
foot also suffers. In the case of re-
claimed criminals, at all events, the head
of each group and of each subdivision
must be held legally answerable for the
conduct of the members beneath their
supervision, and we miffht trust to the
honour even of thieves that if this were
done very little crime comparatively
would be undetected.
Genuine sufferingandhardship among
the destitute poor would thus, also, be^
at once promptly discovered and effec-
tually relievea, while imposture would
as surely be exposed. District risiton
are admirable persons, whose visits in
some shape will always be most useful
ana needed. Many a blessing of un-
speakable value has been brought to a
sorrowing, ignorant, or sin-stricken
abode through their instrumentality.
And they would be wanted more thim
ever, for a time, under the system I
propose. Believing officers, detectives^
and policemen generally in their way
are very useful and necessary, and long
will be. But much of the work now
being done by district visitors, relieving
officers, and the police could be done far
better if the roughs and rogues of our
great cities, reclaimed criminals, and the
onest but suffering poor, could be got
to help in doing it, and especially to
prevent the necessity for its being ^one
oy visitors, or policemen, or relieving
officers at all. It is quite true, how-
ever, and most important to be observed,
that a system of Frank-pledge, of super-
vision, and responsibility for crime only
would soon be felt to be degrading.
You make it healthful and welcome by
combining with it relief in sickness and
suffering, provision for amusement and
education, a share in the management of
the little commonwealth or society, and
the cultivation generally of corporate^
brotherly, neighbourly life. Thus, per-
sons who had lately been, or still vrere,
leading criminal lives would come under
supervision anyhow ; but if they joined
one of these clubs it would not be their
conduct only that would be looked after.
Selections.
269
x>iiifort, means of liyoli-
it, and BO forth,
iderstand that it is not
ittompt uniting in one
Bat roughs and dishonest
» latter remain dishonest ;
-organise at all those who
minal life. Whether, as
iering, and take to honest
act poor will allow them
dwith them remains to
V is reason to hope that,
faiences and wise arrange-
might be aoccmplished,
oed drunkards haye been
lomed, nay, drawn into
lotherhoods consisting of
ut» then, as in the teetotal
in this, persons of ^ood
I higher social position
skilled artisans, noUe-
)ene?olent ladies — must
ese groups and organi-
s true tnat the separate
consist chiefly of persons
a same neighbournood or
for the sake of sociable
nutual improTement and
d also for the superrision,
i help to be given bj each
lily to U)ose subordinated
it. the larger organisations
smaller societies should be
t contain many of a higher
under all circumstances, a
>rtion of the more influen-
■essing simple and kindly
would be inyaluable for
ular offices, for occasional
especially for promoting
business, education, and
1 fellowship. Thus the
lower ranks would find a
eting-ground, and a good
tg would be promoted be-
n a simple natural waj.
p or club should probably
•week at first for business
r discussion. After awhile,
h would be often enough.
MX months after the society
perhaps for a year, every
er of each group above
honld be at liberty to attend
these meetings, with a view
\g and sustaining general
t^ proceedings ; and at no
id any general laws be made
I except by the whole body
But, after awhile, the gene-
s of each club or society
transacted by a committee
chosen quarterly or half-yearly. The
business and the laws would, of course,
have reference only to whatever con-
cerned their common weal. Any matters
relating to employment, recreation,
education, relief of distress, supervision,
to the health of the district, the opera-
tion of the Poor-law, condition of
dwellings, drainage, the appointment of
ofiicers, and so forth, would be among
the matters for discussion. These meet-
ings, among other useful purposes, would
perform the valuable function of what
IS known by most working men's clubs
and institutes as the 'Bemark Book' —
a book in which any member can vnrite
suggestions for the benefit of the club,
or mention any grievances- under which
the members labour. This book is duly
laid before the committee ; and in like
manner a record of remarks made at the
above-mentioned meetings should rega-
lariy come before the governing body.
Then there would M nights set apart
for concerts, readings, &c., free admis-
sion being given to Uie members of each
club or group, or perhaps admission to
them only; and on Sunday evenings
there should be meetings helid for those
willing to unite in prayer and the per-
formance of saored music, to listen to
reading of the Scriptures, saored poetry,
and exhortation. Tvrioe a-year, at
Christmas, and combined with a rural
excursion in the summer time, there
should be a general festival, introduced
by religious services, if these were re-
quested, as at the annual festivals of the
Oddfellows, &€,» attended by members
of all the dobs in each district, and at
.which musical, literarr, artistic, and
scientifio performances should take place.
There should be some suitable cere-
mony whereby all youths, on attaining
the age of twenty-one, should be initia-
ted and welcomed into the group or club
of their neighbourhood, probably at a
quarterly meeting, thereby metaphori-
cally inauing the toga tririlit.
The clubs should most hkely offer ilie
advantages of sick and burial funds and
penn^ bank collections, with deferred
annmties, &o., to all their members,
either by forming lodM in connection
with the Oddfellows, Foresters, or other
large existing societies, by using the
Qovemment scheme, or in connection
with an organisation expressly formed
by them for the purpose.
With regard to the means of enforcing
obedience to the rules and government
of these organisations, you can only
268
SelecHans.
be to adopt and sapplement their riews,
when reasonable, as far as possibfe.
Thoee who are willing to live faonestlj
and to work must then be enrolled in
eroap«, dubs, or societies, widi presi-
dents or captains over ererr ten, fiftr,
and a hundred memben, great care being
taken to make both them and their
former companions know that none of
tlw0e reelaiiDcd criminals will be iarited
or. indeed, allowed to gire information
ixKrimisating rhecr asMctates for past
otfeiMe& A5 fast as tou gain anj inftu-
ciK« owr Them, Toa mu$t endeaTonr to
make r xxi Tc<ir ground bj uniting them
with 9C»e kind of ofganiicd societr.
Xeearu:? of a similar character should
also t« heM for inrincg the honest
i\>Qg^ aT>d unnapIoTvd poor to join a
soriecT or club in thetr netghbonrfoood.
English IsSmuvtsv as w^ as artisansv
ai« alNttdr axu^tooMd to orgaaisation»
to K4De extent, br thetr fnendlr sorie-
Xit» and Kmefil dubs^ Br thu^ ga-
tlwnn; th(i» chaotic inditidusis into
OTfiaaij^ groups* tou viU be able br
de^rNt* to awabm in them an esprit de
<\'y^—%xi attachment to. and a pride in.
the AxnefT or communitr in whidi ther
* • •
are efirv>U«d. Mar not men in a condi-
tion not mor>F anarchic and hopeless
than the eartj settlers in Rome^ the
Jlr.glvv.$aioR* Vhen the ]>anish ddu^e
was i\>ried back. Flonmtine cicmpi m
the Mwldle .igwk or Prenrfi sant^^Jef/fs
dur.njT the wars of the Retolution — mar
not o^r criminal and destitute popula-
tiv^r. N» hcv>ught to care stn>ngnr for a
Kvw^r of wliu-4) thcT are the organised
anerober* — to care for it, not to the
hcfv"»:o or d<^th-|x^int. perhaps but «iffi-
eienth to «.! f%^Kh much of their better
nature? F^vr this purpoee, howerer. it
wvHikvi Iv n»vdful. Ilrrts that thew should
l^ a $imp!e uatural organisation into
which ther «n easilj enter : seccadlr,
that this on:anisation should form a
lOCJctT or iViiimumtT which thej can feel
•ome pride and find some jot in bclong-
ini: to : thirvUr. that ther should have
the hofv and* the chance of gradually
making tl»t fcUowsliip. club, or com-
muuitT mor« worthy of honour, and
mort" capable of aifoViling honour and
joT to those who Uhmj to it.
In hke manner, there must be a
•v»iem introdmvd into these groups or
(ittimunitics, wherebr, on the one hand,
Msn divert ing of trust and honour
l^hottld i«<e)Te it ; lud. on the other,
^nocthr conduol, wpeoiall.T riolation
^^ Imiw whether of the State or the
sodetr, would be instantly denoonoed
and poniUied. By the Saxon system of
' Frank-pledge,' and on which I deaira
to lay great stress, not only would ererj
man he answerable for his neighboor,
hot the whole ootnmunity would b»
liaUe for the misdeeds of a single mem-
ber. In fact, there is true fellowship, a
Teritable corporate society, only in pro-
portion as the members are thus bound
together, so that if the hand offends the
foot also suffers. In the case of re-
claimed criminals, at all erents, the heui
of each group and of each subdivision
must beheld legally answerable for the
eonduct of the members beneath their
soperrision, and we might trust to the
hcmour even of thieves that if this were
done very little crime comparatively
would be undetected.
Genuine sufferingand hardship among
the destitute poor would thus, also, be
at once promptly di.scovered and effec-
tually relievea, while imposture would
as surely be expo<«d. District visitors
are admirable persons, whose visits in
some shape will always be most useful
ana needed. Many a blessing of un-
speakable value has been brought to a
sorrowing, ignorant, or sin-stricken
abode through their instrumentality.
And they would be wanted more thim
ever, for a time, imder the system I
propose. Believing officers, deteetives»
and policemen generally in their way
are very useful and necessary, and long
will be'. But much of the work now
being done by district visitors, relieving
officers, and the police could be done fs^
better if the roughs and rogues of our
great dties, reclaimed criminals, and the
honest but suffering poor, could be got
to kelp in doing it, and espedallv to
prevent the necessity for its being d[one
by visitors, or policemen, or reSeving
oMcers at all. It is quite true, how-
ever, and most important to be observed,
that a system of Frank-pledge, of super-
vision, and responsibility for crime only
would soon be felt to be degrading.
You make it healthful and vrelcome by
combining with it relief in sickness and
suffering, provision for amusement and
education, a share in the management of
the little commonwealth or society, and
the cultivation generally of corporate,,
brotherly, neighbourly hfe. Thus, per-
sons who had lately been, or still vrere,
leading criminal lives would come under
supervision anyhow ; but if they joined
one of these clubs it would not be their
conduct only that would be looked af ter.
Selections.
269
"bot also their comfort, means of liyoli-
Ibood, enjoyment, and bo forth.
But praj understand that it is not
proposed to attempt uniting in one
fellowship honest roughs and dishonest
rogues while the latter remain dishonest ;
nor, in fact, to organise at all those who
are living a criminal life. Whether, as
men give up thieving, and take to honest
work, the honest poor will allow them
to be associated with them remains to
be seen. There is reason to hope that,
under good influences and wise arrange-
ments, this might be aoccmplished,
even as reclaimed drunkards have been
cordially welcomed, nay, drawn into
temperance brotherhoods consisting of
sober men. But, then, as in the teetotal
movement so in this, persons of ^ood
character and higher social position
^-clergymen, skilled artisans, noble-
men, and benevolent ladies — must
also join these groups and organi-
sations. It is true tnat the separate
groups must consist chiefly of persons
residing in the same neighbourhood or
district, both for the s^e of sociable
intercourse, mutual improvement and
recreation, and also for the supervision,
guidance, and. help to be given by each
officer or family to t^ose subor<unated
to them. But the larger organisations
in which the smaller societies should be
united, might contain many of a higher
class ; and, under all circumstances, a
certain proportion of the more influen-
tial class, possessing simple and kindly
dispositions, would be invaluable for
filling particular offices, for occasional
visiting, but especially for promoting
recreation, business, education, and
fmeral good fellowship. Thus the
igher and lower ranks would find a
common meeting-ground, and a good
understanding would be promoted be-
tween them in a simple natural way.
Each group or club should probably
meet pnce a-week at first for business
and friendly discussion. After awhile,
once a month would be often enough.
£V)r the first six months after the society
was formed, perhaps for a year, every
male member of each group above
twenty^ne should be at liberty to attend
and vote at these meetings, with a view
of awakening and sustaining general
interest in the proceedings ; and at no
period should any general laws be made
or rescinded except by the whole body
assembled. But, after awhile, the gene-
ral business of each club or society
should be transacted by a committee
chosen quarterly or half-yearly. The
business and the laws would, of coarse,
have referenoe only to whatever con-
cerned their common weal. Any matters
relating to employment, recreation,
education, relief of distress, supervision,
to the health of the district, the opera-
tion of the Poor-law, condition of
dwellings, drainage, the appointment of
officers, and so forth, would be among
the matters for discussion. These meet-
ings, among other useful purposes, would
perform the valuable function of what
18 known by most working men's clubs
and institutes as the 'Bemark Book' —
a book in which any member oan write
suggestions for the benefit of the club,
or mention any grievances- under which
the members labour. This book is duly
laid before the committee ; and in like
manner a record of remarks made at the
above-mentioned meetings should regu-
larly come before the governing body.
Then there would Im nights set apart
for concerts, readings, &o., free admis-
sion being given to Uie members of each
club or group, or perhaps admission to
them only; and on Sunday evenings
there should be meetings held for those
willing to unite in prayer and the per-
formance of saored music, to listen to
reading of the Scriptures, sacred poetry,
and exhortation. Twice a-year, at
Christmas, and combined with a rural
excursion in the summer time, there
should be a general festival, introduced
by religious services, if these were re-
quested, as at the annual festivals of the
Oddfellows, &e., attended by members
of all the clubs in each district, and at
.which musical, literarr, artistid and
scientific performances should take place.
There should be some suitable cere-
mony whereby all youths, on attaining
the age of twenty-one, should be initia-
ted and welcomed into the group or club
of their neighbourhood, probably at a
quarterly meeting, thereby metaphori-
cal inauing the toga viriiia.
The clubs should most likely offer the
advantages of sick and burial funds and
penny bank collections, with deferred
annuities, &o., to all their members,
either by forming lodM in oonneotiou
with the Oddfellows, Foresters, or other
large existing societies, by using the
Qovemment scheme, or in connection
with an organisation expressly formed
by them for the purpose.
With regard to the means of enforcing
obedience to the rules and government
of these organisations, you oan only
270
Seledums.
inflict direct paDishment by means of
fines. But indirect'y, and far more
efficiently, jou can exercise the requisite
amount of correction or retribution by
depriving members for longer or shorter
periods of priTiIeges and enjoyments.
But for this purpose you must ^et
enjoyments and priTileges. And the
pt emotion of the general happiness thus
becomes as useftu in preserring order
and obedience to rules as for ita own
direct benefits.
It vill no doubt be urved that I baTO
been suggesting the empToTment of far
too many agencies in combined opera-
tion. I answer that yon might as well
object that this table rests on too many
)ec»* It stands firmly precisely because
it has sereral supports, not three or two.
We constantly find that one agency is
inoperatire without another, and that
other without a third, and so on, because
they each supplement the deficiencies or
strengthen the weak points of the rest.
As human wants and weaknesses are yery
manifold and diverse, so must be the
agencies for meeting the one or support-
ing the other. Otherwise admirable
ichemes hare failed just for want of
attending to this principle.
Two or three pointa only remain to
be noticed, or rather time permits of my
noticing only these.
1. The a^sintance of Goyernment
should be obtained for the appointment
ol* c\^romi»»ior.ers to engage the services
of ivn»j>etent engineers to set the unem-
t^loytnl jHH>r to work on remunerative
aKuir. as in the time of the Lancashire
CH>tton fnmine, and also for passing an
Act for tlK» infliction of long sentences
on v^flVnder!* ivuvioted the»econd orthird
time nfVer due warning given, according
(o the suggestions made above. By
ofVering the criminally-disposed great
ikcilitie* for escaping from a life of
(«riui<«, und gre«t privileges of various
kimiii when tliey have abandoned their
evil (VurMTst, we earn a right to restrain
i\\tn\ tt\^x\\ farther injury to society by
ft»r sewivr jmninhment than would now
in* <H|uitahle. We liiould have a velvet
IMW ol tenderest benevolence for those
who will aw\»pt our help, but beneath it
a oUw »harp a* steel for those who still
rohel. NVe nnist not be exposed, if this
ai'lirnte slumld ever be put in operation,
(o \\* Mng iHtntinualiy thrown out of
ffi^f by rrturned «>nviots and ineor-
ri|iih)e'):aolhirtl!« oiMuing back at short
intrrvals to Umst of their victory over
iiw and (»rder» and to Mduce from a new
and at first irksome life of honest labour
their former and better-disposed com-
psnions. The aid of the LegisUture
must also be invoked to restrain the
present enormous multiplication of
public-houses and beershops, and to
amend the whole system of licensing
these terrible temptations to evil ; while
an Act to levy an exceptional and heavj
rate upon houses inhabited by thieves
and receivers of stolen goods (according
to a valuable suggestion by Mr. Pare,
F.S.S., in a paper read before the Social
Science Association in 1862) would also
most materially promote the object.
2. In order to carry out to their full
extent these plans you would need, no
doubt, a far larger body of devoted
Christian workers than is even now
engaged in philanthropic labours in the
metropolis, each having his or her
special department of work or superin-
tendence according to their gifts and
calling, with a definite relation to one
or more above and to others below
them in the required organisation. The
'Parabolani* of the early Christiaa
Church are a memorable illustration of
what may be, and to some extent is now
being done to promote missionary effort
in the midst of a half-barbirons people
surrounded by luxurious civilisation.
But I think we need not fear that this
body of workers would not be gradually
forthcoming. For while on the one
hand there is all that huge chaotic mass
of suffering and crime, there is assnredly
on the other a vast amount both of
active and latent, or wasted becauae
unorganised, Christian energy and love.
Thousands of generous-hearted men and
women of every rank, from the aria-
tocracv downvrards, often feel life to be
a burden, and seek refuge in frivolity,
or worse dissipation, simply because
they have had no fitting field presented
to them for the exercise of their energies
and benevolent affections. A noble
sphere would be offered by the plans
detailed above to thousands of nigh-
hearted, accomplished young men and
educated women for bringing their
accomplishments and influence to pro-
mote the reclamation and happiness of
their sinning and suffering fellow-crea-
tures, by helping in concerts, readings,
exhibitions, lectures, classes, discussions,
excursions, Ac-, or by guidance and
counsel at home — perhaps by leading
forth emigration abroad.
An inestimable blessing also might
possibly result from this oo-operatio&
Selections.
271
of earnest beneyolent persons for a great
Oommon object — viz., greater Christian
union and charity among the serrants
and disciples of our common Lord and
Head. All long and pray for that true
yinity in Him which has been soaght for
in many ways, but which, perhaps, can
nerer really be attained except by first
uniting in practical Christian labours
for the benefit of those for whom He
died.
The practical steps to be taken at
once, if you think it good to take any at
all, seem to be the appointment of a
committee composed of representatives
of the principal London philanthropic
societies, who shall be requested to put
themselves in communication with their
respective committees, with the clergy,
ministers, and missionaries of Sie
yarious denominations in London, with
Scripture-readers, with the Poor-law
Board and the Commissioners of Police,
with the view in the first instance simply
of laying before them the foregoing and
various other principles; requesting, in
return, co-operation, suggestions, and
information. They should then present
a report of what they have been able to
learn and to do to a conference of lead-
ing social reformers, which should be
convened next spring, and when it could
be decided whether any and what steps
should be taken to carry these or other
}>lans into effect. For want of a prac-
tical step of this kind following up
meetings for discussion, many valuable
measures have been at various times lost
sight of and much valuable time lost.
But do not, I beg of you, imagine
that I want to propose the formation of
a new society, or the sudden commence-
ment of some gigantic organisation. I
want simply, in the first in8tanoe,*to
urge the principle of applying benevo-
lent energy and resources to the uproot*
ing, the complete extirpation of the
distress and crime caused by defective
civilisation, instead of merely to pallia-
tive measures — to prevention instead of
cure. And with that view, I would
urge, in the second place, that our
benevolent societies should form or co-
operate with this joint committee, for
deliberation and collecting the materials
for future action. No matter how littlo
Srogress is made at first in the right
irection, so long as it »s in the right
direction, real progress towards ultimate
health, and not merely plaistering over
the sores. If you can in any district
set the honest unemployed men to re-
munerative work, get nalf-a- dozen thieves
really to give up thieving, and bring
these and twenty roughs besides to
group themselves in fellowship that
involves civilised humane ways of life»
you may feel satisfied that you are on
the sure road to ultimate victory, which
I do not think we are, by any means, at
present.
I pray you remember that if we do
not more or less crush those evils in
this generation, the task will be far
more terrible for our children. Social
disorganisation and moral putrefaotion,
such as we have seen in the most fiourish-
ing communities of other times, may be
expected, as a slow gangrene or suadea
paralysis, to invade the body politic,
unless we can arrest its progress b^ a
living healthy development of organised
fellowship and benevolent co-operation.
— Destitute Poor and Criminal Clasie$.
By the Rev. K SoUy,
INCREASE OF INSANITY AMONG THE POOR
That insanity is largely on the increase
among our poorer classes has long been
admitted by those who have specially
directed their attention to the subject
and there is much in the recently pub-
lished Report of the Commissioners in
Lunacy, despite its lamentably -defective
statistics and decided lack of information
on vital points, in support of the painful
and disheartening allegation. Of the
31,917 lunatics oflloially mentioned as
remaining, on the Ist of January, 1867,
in the various county and borough
asylums, registered hospitals, metropoli-
tan and provincial licensed bouses, and
naval, military, and State criminal
asylums in England and Wales, no les^
than 25.998 belonged to the pauper
class. On the 1st of January, 1868, the
number of insane patients confined in
these institutions had risen to 3^213;
this marked inoresse being wholly among
the pauper lunatics, the number of
which, at that date, was 27,3dl, the
272
tSeleetions,
better class of patients exhibitiDg a
decreiase of 67 during the same period.
The<te figures do not include the patients
confined in the lunatic wards of our
workhouses; this species of information
being apparently considered of remote
importance by the commissioners, who
merelj inform us — in a separate table —
that in the :2t)9 workhouses in England
and Wales, risited under their direction
in 1807. the number of insane, idiotic,
and imbecile inmates was 7«^7. As to
the number of persKms of unsound mind
residing as single patients, either in
lodgings or with their relatires, the
commissioners do not condescend to
Touchsafe anr information whatever,
altl'.ough in tieir previous report they
obligiiiglj mentioned that the number of
suctt persons then actually under their
notice was t».8Gl. It is perfectly clear
that if we desire to stay the further
progress of insanity in this oountiy,
we must, as a mere* preliminary step,
aoouire a considerably larger amount of
dennitiTC information respecting the
actual extent to which cerebral diseases
prevail among the community in general,
especially among the poor; also respect-
ing the real or probable causes of the
same. As regards the latter, the com-
missioners* report is absolutely worth-
less. It merely supplies certain formal
statistics of a most meagre and common-
place character, leaving those who wish
to investigate this painful subject topro-
cuie their information from non-official
sources. Considering the expensive cha-
racter of the commission, we have a
right to look for more satisfactory results.
So far as we can a<«oertain, it would
appear that it is the lower and most
degraded section of the poorer classes
which furnishes the great proportion of
lunacy oases. It is amongst these that
drunkenness is most rife. They certainly
are the largest consumers of the vilely-
adulterated malt liquors and spirits
Ci^mmoB in poor neighbourhoods, and it
is mv\*t desirable that it should be asoer-
ta!ti<vi whether there be any connection
becwet^n the wholesale system of drug-
p^ns^nxinj: prartiwd bv large numbers of
bft»r*hop-k^*;vrs ana publicans on the
^*!»e bAv.xi ar.a tlse inv-rwsing prevalence
of in«ni!y amori their oustomeri on the
i>;he*. ,. ,
V^i?u nuvt w<\luiil men are •««
lb*! se*e»v rrivati.^r. ssnitary dedden-
c\^ xW*.^n>s- on . t*an-v.'.al spirils arising
tYv>*w ^i""'' **s' ewptv\Maeat. (vrmtai m-
and adulterated food, are among th»
prolific causes of working-olaaa inauiiJ/;
yet the commissioners take not too
slightest heed of these. They prid«
themselve^ however, on the adoption of
a series of tabular forma, 'drawn ap,'
we are told, 'after careful conaideratioii
of the subject, by a committee of th*
Medico-Psvchological Association/ and
which tables, they believe, will enaUa
them to prepare *a compilation of faeti^*
of ' the greatest utility in statistical com-
parison/ and which will 'supply the ohieC
requisites for a scientific application <tf
the results of medical experience.' Noir»
will it be believed that these muoh-
vaunted tables merely show the numbor
of admissions, re-admisBiona,and deaths*
the proportion of deaths and recoveri«*
causes of death; length of residency Ae,
in each asylum? All this informatioii
ought to have been procnred on the iint
establishment of the oommission, »n^ it
ia scarcely to the credit of the commi»>
sioners that no systematic attempt should
have been made in this direction until
the commencement of last year. Inthair
present report the commiasiopers z»>
commend the collection of informatioa
relative to the number and duration of
insane attacks, age, and fonditinn ■
whether married or single — of p^tMrntit
and probable causes of cerebral riiwrasu.
So far, good. But under a proper system
we should, long before this, have been ia
full possession of such details, also of
others relative to the trades or oecupi^
tions of the persons afflicted, thav
social habits, the physical eonditioa of
their immediate rektives, and numerous
equally-essential facts, the knowledge of
which is requisite to a proper inveetiia-
tion of the subjects. If the oonunia*
sioners have not legal power to insiat
upon the collection of sudi informatum,
they ought to have at once applied to
Parliament forthesame, instead of allow-
ing things to take their wonted course
without the slightest hindrance. Tbo
interests of the community demand that
the countiT should be placed in pos-
session of all procurable informataoa
respecting the real or probaUe CMiaes of
insanity, and of the conditions undar
which 'it is fostered, so that some at-
tempt may be made to effeetoallj itej
its further increase.
With respect to the cooditMB of tko
insane comirg under the ohsmatioo of
the c^^mmissionen, there seem to haio
twen more pains taken with reoard to
iavfttigitiBgthsslMocfthfMlj'fl '
SelectUnw.
278
rtlemtn' okas, than in the, case of
mere paupers; but we should be
loth to accuse the commissioners of
nnfairness in this respect. 'J heir report,
howeyer, contains ample evideDce that
in many of the metropolitan and pro-
yinoial workhouses and asjlums, the
treatment of the insane poor, although
superior to that adopted in former jears,
remains far from being what it ought to
be. The want of proper provision for
the insane poor of Middlesex has caused
the metropolitan licensed houses, in
which paupers are receiyed, to become
crowded to oyerflowing. In other in-
■tancef, numbers of recent and acute
oaaes 'haye remained for long periods
in the wards of workhouses, where no
proper means for their care or treatment
are provided.' p^lse notions of economy
have in more than one place produced
a tendency ' to relieve the pre.«sure on
the asylums, and to avoid building, by
removing to the workhouses harmless
chronic cases.' This tendency has been
severely commented on, in previous
reports, by the commissioners, but with-
out result* * During the past year ( 1 867 )'
say the commissioners, * in many of the
populous unions in the provinces, sepa-
rate lunatic wards ht>ve either been
established, or the existing wards have
been extended. These wards are profes-
sedly intended only for such chronic and
harmless patients as it is proper to retain
in the workhouse ; but we very generally
find that where such wards exist, the?
are not restricted to the above-named
class, but that, as a rule, in many unions
recent cases of insanity are sent to them
in the first instance, and are only removei
to the asylum when they have become so
Tiolidnt and dangerous as to be quite un-
manageable, after imperfect attempts at
cure in the workhouse have failed, and
when much valuable time has been lost,
during which the patients, if submitted
to proper treatment, might have re*
oovered.' Here, surely, exist reasons
for legislative interference.
But this is not all. In the report
before us we have numerous significant
complaints, on the part of the commis-
sioners, of the deficiency of bathing and
washing accommodation in many of the
asylums visited by them. In some, the
cisterns were too small to admit of the
patients being washed separately ; in
others, the same water was used for four
or more patients. In the Devon County
Asylum there were only four baths for
2G0 male patients, and five baths for 400
Vol. U.— ^0. 43.
s
female patients; while in the Dorset
County Asylum there were only four
vrash-basins for eighty -two patients. In
the Sussex County Axylum a much better
state of tilings prevailed. In tbut insti-
tution, which IS under the care of Dr.
Bobertson and Dr. Williams — the latter
gentleman formerly belonged to the
Northampton Asylum — the bathing ar-
ransements are represented as *very
good ;* every patient being bathed twice
a week, and each time having fresh
water. The quality of the food aupplied
to the insane is found to vary consider-
ably. In some establishments there is
nothine to complain of; in others, there
is much to conaemn. In one place the
soup tasted by the commissioners is
spoken of as 'poor and tasteless;* in
another, it is described as being of
'poor quality,' and rejected by nearly
mty of the patients ; in a third case, the
meat was considered as 'somewhat coarse
and inferior in quality ; ' elsewhere, the
meat proved too 'hard,' or the suet-
fiudding appeared ' to be generally dis-
iked,' or the use of mustara and pepper
is practically forbidden, and so forth.
Then we are told of establishments where
the drains are very defective, the case-
book's neglected or badly kept, the stafT
of attenaants too small, toe class of
keepers inferior, in consequence of the
low wages offered, no physical or mental
occupation provided for the patients, no
attempt made to impart a cheerful aspect
to the interior of the wards, and where
overcrowding is larijely practised. In
the Carmarthen Asylum, we are told,
' little or nothing has been done to sup-
ply the numerous deficiencies in the way
of ftirntture, and the wards still present
a very bare and comfortless appearance.'
In the same place, the commissioners
• are very sorry to be obliged to report
that the case- books have been almost
entirely neglected.' In the Hants County
AsyluiD, 'the recommendations made
during a series of years, at eaeh succes-
srve visit of members of our board, have
had little or no attention.' Here, too,
'the seclusion continues to be larve.'
At Colney Hatdh, we are informed wat
' one subject on which remark has been
made at every commissioners' visit, but
without obtaining the attentioa which,
above almost eytrj other, it re^uirei«, is
that of regular employment for the male
patients. Out of 825 male inmates,
there is not an average of more than
forty engaged on the land and fifty in
the woruhops; while ia the tailors' and
274
SelecHons.
shoemakers* shops there are almost as
manj paid workmen as working pa-
tientt. ' In tho Somersot Count j A'»ylum,
the sUt) of the persons and dredi of the
male patients is reported as being * far
from satisfactory.* ' Much of their
clothing/ wo are told, 'eren of those ia
tho dining-liall, was of inferior qualitj,
untidy, and out of repair.' In tlie same
place the commissioners remark the want
of tAblc-cloths, *t)io absence of which
tends to diminish the aspect of domestic
comfort.' While visiting tho City of
Londoa Asylum, the commissioners
'notiood a considerable number of pa-
tients wearing strong and special dresses
of an unsightly character, secured by
locks and belts;' in consequence of
which they recommended ' the disuw of
such obitoleto contrirances.' but we are
not informed whether their recommenda-
tion has been acted upon. In connection
with the same institution, we are told
that ' the airiog-conrts in eonneotion witti
the worst wards rem sin in a rough and
unQnished state, neither laid out, turfod,
nor planted.'
Complaints similar to the foregoing
are scattered profusely through the report
of the commissioners, and read Tery in-
consistently with the high praise inra-
riably liirished by them on the medical
and other autliorittes connected with
ea?h asylum. Indiscriminate praise of
this kind is worth little. In fact, it it
almost an insult to bestow on those in
charge of really well-managed institu-
tions the same meed of approbation ••
that dealt out in cases where there has
been so much of which to complain and
so 1 i t tie of wh ich to approTe. Altogether,
the general tenor of the report is far
from re-assuring : it rather tends to con-
vince us that things are considerablj
worse than they are made to eppaar. —
London Review,
PETTED DAUGHTERS AND SPOILT WIVEa
It is seldom that a petted daughter
becomes a spoilt wife, human affairs
having that marvellous power of com-
pensation, that inevitable tendency to re-
adjust the balance, which prevents the
continuance of a like excess under dif-
ferent forms. Besides, a spoilt daughter
generally makes such a supremely un-
plotisnnt wife that tho husband has no in-
duconumt to continue the mistake, and
therefore either lowers her tone by a
judicious exhibition of snubbine, or, if
she is aggressive as well as unpleasant,
leaves her to light with her »<hadows in the
best way she can. glad for his own part
to oseaiK) the strife shs will not forego.
One charsctoristic of the spoilt woman
if her imimtience of anything like
rivalry. She never has a female friend
— porlainly not one of her own degree,
and not one at all in the true sense of
(ho word. Friendship presupposes
0(]uu1ity, and a spoilt woman knows no
Mpialily. She has been so long accus-
tomed to consider herself asthe lady para-
mount, that she cannot understand it if
uiy one steps in to share her honours
and divide her throne. To praise the
beauty of any other woman, to find her
oliarming, or to pay her the attention
due (o a charminij woman, is to insult
oar spout darling, and to alight her past
forgiveness. If there ia only one good
thing, it must be given to her — ^the first
seat, the softest cushion, the most pro-
tected situation ; and she looks for the
best of all things as if naturally con-
secrated from her birth into the sunshine
of life, and as if the ' cold shade' which
may do for others, were by no meani
the portion allotted to her. It is almost
impossible to make tlie spoilt womoa
understand the grace or the glory of sacri-
fice. By rare good fortune she may some-
times be found to possess an indestructi-
ble germ of conscience which sorrow and
necessity can develop into active good ;
but only sometimes. The spoilt woman
par excellence understands only her own
value, only her own merits and tho
absolutism of her own requirements;
and sacrifice, self-abnegation, and the
whole class of virtues belonging to un-
selfishness, are as much unknown to her
as is the Decalogue in the original, or
the squaring of the circle. The spoilt
woman, as the wife of an unsuooeeaful
husband or the mother of sickly chil-
dren, is a pitiable spectacle. If it comes
to her to be obliged to sacrifice her
usual luxuries, to make an old gown
serve when a new one is desired, to sit
up all night watching by the sick bed,
to witness the painful details of illness
SeleeUons.
275
— perbaps of death — ^to meet hardship
face to face, and to bend her back to the
InirdeQ of sorrow, she ia at the first
•bsolutelj lost. Not the thing to be
done, bat her own discomfort in doing
it, is the one master idea — not others*
needs, but hor own pain in supplying
them, the great grief of the moment.
Many are the hard leitsons set us by
life and fate, but the hardest of all is that
given to the spoilt woman, when she is
made to think for others rather than for
herself, and is forced by the exigencies
■of circumstances to sacriGoo her own
oaae for the greater necessities of her
lund.
All that large part of the perfect
woman's nature which expresses itself
in eerring is an unknown function to the
spoilt woman. She must be waited on,
out she cannot in her turn serve even
the one or two she loves. She is the
woman who calls her husband from one
4nd of the room to the other to put
down her cup rather than reach out ner
mrm to put it down for herself — who,
however weary he may be, will bid him
get up and ring the bell, though it is
«lo9e to her own hand, and her longest
w«lk during the day has been from the
dining room to the drawing room. It
ia not that she cannot do th se small
offices for herself, but that she likes the
feeling of being waited on and attended
to;^ and it ia not for love, and the
amiable if weak pleasure of attracting
the notice of the beloved— it is just for
the vanity of being a little somebody for
the moment, and of playing off the
■ame regality involved m the procedure.
She would not return the attention.
Unlike the Eastern women, who wait on
their lords hand and foot, and who
place their highest honour in their
lowliest service, the spoilt woman of
Western life knows nothing of the
natoral grace of womanly serving for
love, for grace, or for gratitude. This
kind of thing is peculiarlv strong among
the demi-monde of the higher class, and
among women who are not of the demi-
monde by station, but by nature. The
respect they cannot command by their
Tirtues they demand in the simulation
of manner ; and perhaps no women are
more tenacious of the outward forms of
deference than those who have lost
their claims to the vital reality. It is
▼ery itriking to see the difTerence
hetween the women of this type, the
peiiUs maitresses who require the utmost
uttention and almost servilitj from man,
and the noble dignity of servioe whioh
the pure woman can aSbrd to give —
whioh she finds, indeed, that it belongs
to the very purity and nobleness of her
womanhood to give. It is the old story
of the ill -assured position which is
afraid of its own weakness, and the
83curify which can afford to descend —
the rule holding good for other things
besides mere social place.
Another characteristic of the spoilt
woman is the changoableness and ex-
citability of her temper. All suavity,
and gentleness, and delightful gaiety,
and perfect manners when every thing
goes right, she startles you by her out-
burst of petulance when the first cross
comes. It no man is a hero to his valet,
neither is a spoilt woman a heroine to
her maid ; and the lady who has just
been the charm of the drawing room,
upstairs in her boudoir makes her maid
go through spiritual exercises to which
walking on burning ploughshares is the
only fit analogy. A length of lace un-
starched, a ribbon unsewed, a flower set
awry, anything that crumples only one
of the myriad rose leaves on which she
lies, and the spoilt woman raves as
much as if each particular leaf had
become suddenly b^t with thorns. If
a dove was to be transformed to a
hawk the change would not be more
complete, more startling, than that
whicn occurs when the spoilt woman
of well bred company manners puts
off her mask to her maid, and shows
her temper over trifles. Whoever else
may suffer the grievances of life, she
cannot understand that she also must be
at times one of the sufferers with the
rest ; and if by chance the bad moment
comes, the persons accompanying it has
a hard time of it. There are spoilt
women also who have their peculiar
exercises in thought and opinion, and
who cannot suffer that any one should
think differently from themselves, or
find those things sacrod which to them
are accursed. They will hear nothing
but what is in harmony with themselves,
and they take it as a personal insult
when men or women attempt to reason
with them, or even hold their own with-
out flinching. This kind is to be found
specially among the more intellectual of
a family or a circle — women who are
pronounced 'clever* by their friends,
and who have been so long accustomed
to think themselves clever that they
become spoilt mentally as others are
personally, and fancy that minds and
276
:2i?ur'*-'9
fii
VUG M rr«» !:;•: ujtZi* n mc f ->:>« v:*z
C'H.
IK lilt s»Ri:k. A.tii -f 1 i:«r-f; t
: A-r?
ti-ae, coub^ or
fccc.: Tvw«r of
c^^
•Vv««^B — ^ ^—
r>rSI5G TEE XXIGirS OP
r**-* i7T-."ar2:- :' ftzri lzL aire
ir £ " r:.-* :: rt: ; ». § k '^ z^ iz z:
jrt* !.=.:■:£ f^irr r^rtlt ^:i »':«
:■: - ::«w Z'ji *> zx izi *.: * *-ir !■.-. r 'w*r«
::▼«* r "11 ■« .2 yi<eAz.' z< : m- rr-ix>s
•I.-*. i--.ri :!•? :i ii* i^. »sr*
i:»: rTT . iri =:i.-t i- .1: -izucrr:
»= i K - : : --^i : ':ci. » i-kt «.- : : w ;.;d
EiTfr: „■-.•* cf r y.:T.i. s^: rf. E^: is
irj: :re = "• i.* #rw* '. if i- : ; - rj LiTe
brtr.*".: -.hf ni-fw. lz\zi rsr.i i-i
:*=-r*.T±-T zi;ifrf-'* .:* r-. ". : .'*. *:r:>
t''j' »fiv». ~. ^:- i r.: Sf xi.^'fi '•.'.'r.
Cizru J I". ■** " ::•• i'fr r^r: cf
ti* » x-.«u*.b. i::i wi"^* * *7 i-r r^ :■-.*
€•:•-:** ^"ar.# ft ^.-rr :":r= dir ■ ::*:t--
rs^r: ■". w.-rk-.TC ■-:";:: : ■ e :«: re* *::*
nr..:: e**-^ :."y-e ov-i *».♦: :s .vr-
iB:Vr=-ftt ^r. »r .b fT^e bis \t-\ us
a:c«» ^* s-*'. «*^ -^-^ ■"*^* ■ ^^-^ •-'?•
»«n *,- :V- ^^. •'"•='• wf- *r^ * »^^=* *'>';
vo( «t4 »>:.^ »'4->«fU or eacrted »a
Ueuvr.v .T^r ft*. :ie zr^^ F^T-'*'^
tK'w lb* u'.i'.: y CI tuob rtvcrvf*. by
i^itotraUD^ a (if«a period of mcdcni
2 jsr
>;= ^aSct^aIi eciirtly dcriivd
>:::i ■_!«* f:ir.-«s«. crf^riA-ea the fit
:.▼ j:; r r._-* c: ir« r» jr.* cf tie fint
•.^ rK J-iv: -re*. I : i* :^ •-» tz :i::enM ii^
7*rr :c. S---».i*e .- :l ir«;« a.i tlK««
i_?c r.- ::j .:' r«:..:"nlf4r:e*. atd iliat
z.iZL -mz :z fx:-s »: -he Frrsni c«y-
W :j: :: =.-*: ::' :be p.:!:-^^*: question*
r.-w :- i.j:.> :cck :tt:T nse. It
K=*ist* .1 ZM.f : f :wo i!er.cpdf ; tbc Snt
m: - w; .-. -.i* H.ufr* cf l:run>«vick
"■Mes'i'tliih^i ::: -be TbKUiif England
■-3>:= ::* r— r* :•" J*xb:i sa. aad bj ihm
crtr.: r.-w :^ :-e rc'.ir.jil crefd of
i-f«^". i= : :h< iecc = i. :hat in WQ:ch tha
it-M-T tri :•» :hrcse were da-
f<ti<-i i£ar«i :be crnracbinnTs of
■h^: :'«r -1 £.s.d c:" rpi-fclicauwni ahich
r--^! v"-: fr.'s: a ze iibotr.rg kiogdoiDp
a-i '•be-. :hfT :hJf ^:sed a TicCorj
; Tf r d== .c-a :t. T-^r.zz these pen<kia
b 'J: 'li £-«a: pc'..::ja. purii.t in ihia
.-:-r*..-T cJ=* .-." o tiiy ; is'.befint, iba
or '«•-■.-•. .-- cweo -.'ji ^Tftticn fo tha
Wr i«. :n :'•■.' #* crd. :i wu in ail
pr;r&r ..-T s^Tv<.:.rer^arf ncralTcgetbcr
cf*fcrei".y. ry 'jie T<.r:tgs. li maj bo
rfvwfj-y to \zi-t till :n ibe pretcnt
wc-rk ::e ik:!:* cal celcur of the faibtory
has ':<es iprienlly g:»ea more or leva
a» rernf*er,:tJ :n he ciasa o: materi^
cr «. .:b :t «» fcurdcd. Xbis vat tho
r>er;^-d curirg which p.I.liealcancaturca
£c-r>bed -3 Er^iicd — whentbeTwera
r. ji r-.erv riotunp!* to amuse and eiciie a
\i'jzb. b-^t vhra they » ere made ezien-
»:t«:t fub!>erT:tfc! to The political »arfai«
that m%$ coir; «.n. lhi« uae of them
Mtms to ^ iTe be«T» imported from Uol-
iftrd. ard lo ^aTe frai ctme into exten-
r.Te rrartuesf^er !he reroluiion of I6t8.
Befcpe tlat t me. the art of tn^nvirg.
I a J ri't siaue »L£v-i«Dt proereia in lliia
cvun'.ry *o9;.C'» ihcm to be produced
w til n.LvL e^ect. Tbe older caricatures,
tbi*e, |cr r.jiarce, upon Crcro«all»
vere cLicHy czfCLted hj Dutch artisU;
27T
^«Bd cfen in fhe great inunolation of
MrioaturM oooasiomd bj the South Sea
-bubble, the majority of them oame from
Holland. It was a defoot of the earlier
jHoduetions of this class, that tbej psr-
took more of an emblematical character,
ihuk of what we now understand bj the
term oartcature. Bven Hogarth, when
ha turned his hand to politics, could not
■hake off the old prejudice on this sub-
. joot^ and it would be difficult to point
out worse examples than the two celebra-
ted publications which drew upon him
9Q muob popular odium, ' The Timee.'
Modern oarieatore took its fbrm from.
the pencils of a number of derer amateur
artists, who were actiTcly engaged in the
folitioal intrigues of the rei^ of George
I. ; it became a rage dunng the flrat
yesra of his successor; and then seemed
to be dyinff way, to re?ife suddenly in
the splendid conceptions of Gillray*
This able artist was oerUinly the first
caricaturist of our country; during his
long career he produced a series of
printa which form a complete history of
the age. — Osrica^tfTs Niatanf af iki
Qmrgn, by TkmoM Wripkt, ^.S.A.
ISLAT.
All the thrown male inhabitants un-
derstood English besides the Gaelic,
but Tcry few of the women or children
eould mske themselves understood in it,
>eepecislly in those psrts remote from
schools. If we are to credit the stories
in circulation, the English of Cfcn some
of the men is not particularly classic.
One is told of a cattle dealer, of con-
siderable position in the island, who had
.mhengsged the steamer for his cattle.
On the arrival of the boat, another
droyer, unaware of the compact, per-
sisted in haying his animals put on
board; upon this Donald lost his tem-
per, and eloquently expressed himself
18 follows: — * I tell ve I'm the post, and
the post's me, and — the stot'll get
•boord but mysel';' a conglomeration
ct persons and things that would rather
itaffger a ^ammarian. This is on a par
witn the Inyerary man who addressed
the cartwright of the place with, ' Are
^u a pig this year?' Upon the reply
in the negatiye, he exclaimed trium-
phantly, * Oh ! I am two pigs this year.'
I always found the men sturdy, in-
telligent, and hospitable, and ready to
£*ye their assistance kindly and good-
imouredly; but a total disregard for
trntb, a ' plentiful lack ' of knowledge
regarding eyery thins excepting whisky
and potatoes, and &e most degrading
filth, these are the principal charac-
teristics of the mass of the nstiyes.
How haye they been caused ? how are
they to be ameliorated ? are the ques-
tiona that naturally arise. They are
ibe oharacterisiiot of an enslayed people,
nnd the consequences of a state of ssrf-
dML Until lately, the popnbtion of
tjhe Highlands and islands had
little better than slayea. Ground down
by a landed aristocracy who treated them
like dogs— for rarely indeed haye Scotch
or Highland proprietora shown the
slightest regard kr the feelings or welfare
of their tenants — they have gradually in-
creased in poverty and misery. Ix>8in£
all respect for themselves, they plunged
into the oblivion of drunkenness, and«
wiUiout the semblance of education to
teach them better thin^ have gone
from bad to worse. Gkming a scanty
subsistence, partly from agriculture and
partly from the sea, they have lost all
regular habits of labour, and the praotiot
of subdividing the land among their
children hss increased their difficulty of
gaining a livelihood. Thus that look of
sadness and hopelessness so senerally
observable among the lower classea of
the Scotch, when not roused by aetioni
settles down upon their faces. It ia not
always because *they can never get
enough o' feohtin,' that the Scotch look
so serious; oftener far is it that th^
cannot get enough of proper food, and,
on the mainland especially, that thef
cannot get sufficient rest, rest from con-
tinuous grindins labour. Seeing nons
on earth, they place all their hopes on
heaven, and possessed of a stimnse mix*
ture of superatition and religion, Uirough
a life of labour, immorality, and devo-
tion, psss wearily to the grave. As is
to be expected, the ueople are very im-
moral. I bold it alnoet impossible fof
a pura mind to rest in a filthy body*
and calmly to live in the midst of dirW
This impurity of mind and body has
been tJie growth of oeoturies, and is
278
S^Uetiowt,
BOt to be z*:t rA cf is i da r. Already
illicit d:*t '.'.t'.izn. »1wit« i jr^.t Ktrw
of depriT.tT Z.2* b«fifn d'MnrsTTfith
in the islird: c'.i.er irrrriT^tr.-frti !r:-t
be c: c re rnd -.il. T ce e-i ■- :a' : : r: jC' :he
Toa-«e. »r.d :ce :r>t.„a:.:- ::::; 'h'?— cf
DAb::^ cf c'easl.r***. a.::r:€tT. s-.d •.?:<
Beof&ii:T fir sceafy '.ibc-r in l.:e. w-: 1
•Ijo do ET.. h. E-': :he rc<: rf ice ctH
is sot tf-i :.: he en-:.ci"eti. I: '..** w.*:x
the pr:pr;*i:cr» :o a**:-: in r*n::T;r:z
tte efij «L«ed b^ th^> credecwsor?
durre cen:ur:«M c;* cr&re*-!:s. br
MT-.r.? cr : per dwelir.zi erected f':p:he;r
ficall ramers ani ci::tar tecar.'j. Eu:
nc: ur.::l 'L.* cwr.era of the *cil cwell
therecc. »::!. :r.e:r wives and fiEii:?*:
net '-::t:i ihe w-:n:en o'" the :*'-ir.d have
Kce i-^sl'.er »Tan<-]Ard cf eioei.eTice and
c!ear.I:L^ss fcr: '-?:.: ccnitattij t-ef.re
them: net '-r.!:l :he lad.<« cf the lairda
Tiait the cctTages o: the peer, and
caurciae the benign induence which ever
belcrri tc a ▼{rtccci wccaa : ret tmtil
rfae w'.n-r. ire 'a-^z^t tt c-e of ifctir
cwt: MX •.>!: a =-»ii* w:** ard a brpSA
c>ar. £rP4 d» •■: we'.^se i: s at hooM
are the best :-d:i«~e::**:? =4»e a maa
wri hari. ar.d cr:: the : ur'.;>bccse OQ
hi J rf".-r= : :n -'a:*. =:: -=:il :Iie dirty,
*li':«rr."T ha'-.:* rf :'-e wcmen aro
z'c'Z T'Z"zl'.r re-^'.-'.-'J-r-sed car. arT real
pr.;ff!T*« » a=*:::p^:«L Orce. tbroDgfa
:r.prcTen:en:« in rheir dwelliEg?* clean-
I:r.e** bi«vccre.< cc**irle. ihejr will tak»
care 10 hare eTepi*-irc tidy a^inst ths
Tiair cf "Ler Ldy-bip.* cr the cferpiran,
ar.d be aslisrred to be caught with
nr.jwept hearth cr dirty rerst'D. Bat
• Riiir-e wu- ret be 1: in a <iaT.' and cer-
tair.iy a ccr^idenble period icust e.apas
befcre the "g-eat uLwa?>hed* cf I^laij
wi.l be rrf«er.rabie 'n scciety. — Oftkt
Lha^n :^ y^ ies en i EUsc^ a /ft di lis WiM
HtffhUr.di. By Gcterie.
THE ROYAL HOUSES OF EXGLAXD AND SICILY.
It is true that a much c!cser relation-
ship than that which Las been above
indicated eii.-Ts between The BotbI
HoufCfl of England and Sicily, but tfiat
relationiihfp ccnies through the Iloufe
of Savoy, anil is represented by King
Francis II. of the Two Sicilies, who is
the eighth cousin of the Prince of Wales.
A very perceptible family likeness
between thcee two princes may be
detected by even a cur-ory inspection
either of the countenances cr of the
photographs of these descendants of King
Charles 1. Even the legislation of the
Sn^lihh Parliamerit is not competent to
eztinf;ui^h lineal descent, however it
may deal with the claims which are
tiFually entailed on the hereditary repre-
sentatives of great namc6 of the pa»t.
But it is happy for the dynasty now
enthroned at Westminster that the
Ifemesis of the House of Stuart— that
constant and unintcrmittingevil fortune
vhich in nine descents was marked by
four violent deaths, two of which were
on the Fc&flbld, by one death of broken
heart, by lour abdications, impriscn-
nents, or dethronements, and by the
final loss of a dominion descending from
tiye Flantvgenets and frem the Scotti^h
hiu followed the right line. On
of the Cardinal of York, in
1607, the reprefentativeof the House of
Stuart was the head of the House of
Savr>y, who descended from Charles L
of England, through his dauehter, the
Duchess cf Orleans, the House of
Hanover being a defiree more remote
from the representative line, as do-
soendants of a daughter of James I.
The Stuart line of the House of Savoj
lo»t its Italian dominions owing to the
operation of the Salique law, on tbo
death, in ISlU, of Charles Felix, in
whom, being the third brother suc-
ceeding to the crown of Sardinia, tbo
dynasty became ext inct. But the second
of tbeii brothers had left four daughterly
two of them twinA, and the eldest son of
the first of these ladies who gave birth
to a male c):ild was, according to
English genealogical rule, the heir bj
blood of the House of Stuart. The
eldest daughter, who married the Duke
ofMcdena, was also the mother of the
eldest son. The third tister bad no
i*sue, her husl-nnd, the Emperor Fer-
dinand of Austria, himpclf descending
from his throne under the constraint of
a Cf-vml de Fcvulie, to make way fof
the present King of Hungary. Francia
Joseph of Lorraine H8p^burg. The
reprerentatives of the other three sihters
are— Francis, the dethroned Duke of-
Selections.
279
Vodeoa; Robert, the exiled DuVe of
PMrxna ; and Francis II., the fugitive
King cf the Two Sicilies. Four abdi-
OBtioni or expulsions, affecting the hus-
bftndB or the sona of the four Stuart
oo-heiresses, is an instance of peraistent
evil fortune not easy to parallel in the
history of any Soyal House. — Ths
Trinity of Italy,
PUBLIC OPINION.
If some clamic writer of ancient
Borne could say, and some French
BeTolutionary leader could repeat, vox
populi vox Deiy what may we hopefully
say and believe of the voice and power
of the public rantiment of Christendom,
gifted with these new and stupendous
energies? If with the forces given to
it by steam, railways, cheap postage,
•nd all the other facilities invented to
?lTe it movement and momentum, it has
riven slavery out of the world, and
brought down the level of other great
■ins and miseries, what may, what ought
it not to do with all these electric wires
that thread tlie oceans and the seas
and tlie wide world itself? When any
erent worth the world's notice may bie
known the very hour of its occurrence
mtall the capitals of Christendom ; when
instead of twelve men, twelve great
nations may be summoned by lightning
to sit in jury upon any great act or
intent of wrong; when any outrage
upon human rights may thrill the palpi-
tating nerves that connect all tlie Par-
liaments and CongresKcs of the two
hemispheres with all the localitie.-^ and
Toalities of mankind ; when the thunder
of universal opinion may follow instan-
taneously its lightning hurled in ono
burning bolt against a sinning Oovern-
ment or people in the very act and
moment of the wrong ; in a word, when
the voice of the people ia so made by
Him the speech of God to mankind;
when He has clothed it with such omni-
potence for His glory and the good of
man, what next? What great monster
of iniquity, what huge, gorgon-headed
enemy and destroyer of the peoples
should fall next under the thunaer and
lightning of the world's opinion ? What
new mechanical forces wait we for, what
new machinery of thought do the people
need to sweep war from the face of the
civilised world ? What more wait they
for ? Let tliem feel the edge, the pulse,
and the point of these mighty, these
almost over-awing instrumentalities cf
omnipotence put into their handa by
Almighty power and wisdom. Why
should war stand up longer in their
midst like the very abomination of
desolation ; bending them to the earth;
battening upon the spoils of their peace
and prosperity ; consuming their sub-
stance ; throwing the broad earned with
such toil for tl<eir children to its greedy
dogs ? Who shall lead the van ? Who
shall sound the charge of the nations
against the great Destroyer? — Firt-^id€
Words, bf/ Elihu Burritt.
aOUCHO HORSEMANSHIP.
One performance of the gouchos,
however, was really startling. Tlio
entrance to the corral was closed by five
slip rails, in place of a gate, fitting
into morticed posts as in England, save
that the highest was some eight feet
from the ground. Amon^ the mares in
the corral was one groat black fi?e-,Tear
old, well bred and vixenish-looking,
standing over fifteen hands high. She
was already very excited at her unwonted
confinement in the oorraL Speaking a
word or two to his capitaz, Signor
called us outride, when a goucho, in
huge spurs, and having only a heavy
revenche in his hand, clambered on the
top slip rail, Etanding on this so far
towards the centre that he could just
balance liim«elf by touching the side-
pott. Another goucho let down the
under four rails, then, entering the cor-
ral, lie swung his lasso in the air, and
awHy with a rush went the mares,
making for the gateway. Watohing his
280
Selections.
opportunity as the mtres pused under
him, thegoucbo on the top rail dropped
down safelj mounted on the vicious
black, who teemed bo utterlj astonished
that she appeared for a moment to
slacken her speed ; down went the heavj
revenche on her starboard flank ; then,
with a scream and two or three tremen«
dous bounds, awaj she went, head down,
•cross the camp. No leu excited seemed
her reckless rider, as, jelling like a
demon, continuouslj flogging and spur-
ring, he and his mount rapidly paicaed
out of sight. Signor , however,
assured us thev would soon return,
which they did m about a quarter of an
hour, the mare staggering, seemingly
exhausted, but still showing the whites
of her ejes, and, with ears sloping back,
looking vicious enoueh, but quite under
command, and easily guided by the
application of the reveuche on either
side of her neck. The goooho di^*
mounted by sliding off the mare, still in
motion ; he seem^ perfeetly cool, and
not at all aware he had done anything
out of the common. Not so the mare ;
covered with foam, her quivering flanks
bleeding and striped with huge walea^
after a tew yards she stopped, as thoaeh
bewildered, then, smelling about tha
ground, she kneeled, snorted, and rolledp
at first feebly, afterwards more energeti-
oally; in three or four minutes aha
arose, shaking herself vigorously, tbao^
as we advanced towards her, she flunf
her heels high into the air, and bounded
away as madly as before, never aladc-
ening her headlong speed so long as we
could sight her ; and Senor (old oa
she probably would not pull up until
she joined her equally acarea ccm-
panions, long since out of sight — A
Long Vacation in tk» ArgnUiM$ Mftm
BIRMINGKAM TBADE AND THE FASHIONS.
Birmingham, in its mechanical in-
dustries and productions, has followed
the fashions and customs of the world
very closely, and supplied every art and
occupation with all the working tools
and appliances it needed. It has
* worked to order ' without asking
questions for conscience* sake in regard
to the uses made of its artitdes of
iron and brass. It has made all kinds
of cheap and showy jewels for the
noses and ears of African beaux and
Iwlles, find Htout<«r bracelets of iron for
Uin ImncU and feet of slaves driven in
coillt^ri to the soa-board. In the same
sliops and DW the same benches, gilt and
siUor buckles were made by the million
for I ho nlioes of the nul>ility and gentry
when (/hnrles II. rauio haok to the
tlirono nnd brought with him the court
fmhionN nnd moralities of the conti-
nnnl. Thiit was what archicologists
would enll the hronxo jieriod, when
arlii'lovof liniiM sli^fhtly gilt or washed
will* Bilver were in \\\^\\ fAMiiion in the
uppitr riinliN of sooiety. lluckles and
iiiplsl hiilliinN then \n>^i\\\ to ounipcto
with irmi wsres in the business of the
town, nnd from thitt to the present
lUji lito workers in hrnHS have steadily
liiurrusitil, uulil they now number about
10,000 persons employed in thafedepaii-
ment. But the manufacture of fireurma
may be considered to have been the great
distinctive industry of the town for
more than 200 years. Up to the mid-
dle of the seventeenth century, London
monopjliscd the fabrication of thesa
weapons of war, and then it was trans-
ferred to Birmingham. Indeed, its akill
and labour all the way back to tha
morning twilight of written history
have wrouglit upon the scythes, sickles,
and reaping hooks of war *for home
and exportation.' On the battlegrounds
of Hastings, Lewes, Evesham, Tewkes-
bury, and Flodden Field, hundreds of
these tools bearing the Birmingham
brand lay scattered about with hacked
edges or broken points. Perhaps thou-
sands of the tomahawks lifted by North
American Indians against the ' pale
faces' of New England and Canada
wore the same mark. And since flia-
arms superseded these weapons of
hand-to-hand fight, it is doubtful if a
single battle has taken place in tha
civilised or uncivilised world in which
muskets and rifles manufactured hora
have not played their part in the work
01 slaughter. — Walks in the Blaek
Country,
BelecHons.
281
A PHILAirrHROPIST TN EVEBY-DAY LIPB.
Daring bis entire London life he
wore unomallj large ooat- pockets, and
no change of fashion, or jests, oould in-
dooe him to alter the stjle. These
pockets v^ere to carry oranges and
apples and children's books. There
were many poor orange and apple-
women who bad stalls upon his daily
beat. At the close of the day be would
notice which of them bad been the least
euocessful, and often would he rejoice
the heart of some poor woman, who had
been watching all day in the biting wind
or drizzling rain, by clearing her stall,
•nd sending her home with a lighter
step to her waiting and hungry children.
^Elie pockets were filled to tne brim, but
he aooD lessened his load as he went
along* If he met a little girl carrying
an infant he would give her an orange
*for nursing baby so nicely.' If he
met a little boy and girl hand-in-hand
he would give the boy an orange for
taking care of his little sister, with in-
junctions to give her a part. If he
overtook two children carrying a clothes
basket he tossed one or two oranges in
'for helping mother,' expressmg a
kope that it would not make the
basket too heavy, and adding a book.
<to read to mother' when the day's
washing was done. With every oranga
oame a book. So would many a lesson
of kindness be enforced, and many a n^
of sunshine thrown across a dreary home
by the encouraging word and unexpected
notice. . . . Widows and orphans
were the special objects of his generous
and delicate kindness. Some such re-
duced in circumstances by their bereave-
ment experienced that kindness for
years, unknown to any but themselves.
Nor did it need extreme destitution to
call forth the exercise of his liberality.
In less urgent and less obvious perplexi-
ties he was equally considerate. There
is the case, for instance, of two young
people long wniting to be married, be^
cause he is a minister on small pay,
and she has little but goodness and pure
affection for her dower, and Mr. Thomp-
son writes to some members of her
family, chullenging them to give ;£50
each, and he would give J&lOO, to fur-
nish their liouse, and start them com-
fortably in their new life. — Xt/s 0/
Ihomas 2Aomp9on.
SPEED OP THE SENSES.
There are thirty-one pairs of com-
pound nerves in the human body, the
sensory and motor fibres of which are so
commingled as to render it an im-
poesible undertaking to separate them
by any means at present known. Now
iff for instance, a needle be stuck into
one of the fingers, the sensory fibres
take the impression through the nerve
and the posterior root to the spinal cord,
and thence to the brain. The command
goes out to ' draw the finger away.*
The mandate travels down the spinal
cord to the anterior root, and thence
through the motor fibres of the nerve to
the muscles, which immediately act, and
the finger is at once removed. All this
takes place with great rapidity, but yet
with nothing like the celerity once
imagined. Ihe researches of Helmholtz,
a distinguished German physiologist,
have shown with great exactitude the
sate of speed with which the nerve fluid
travels ; and other observers have given
a great deal of time and ^tience to this
and kindred questions. As. the resnU
of many experiments, it was ascertained
that the nervous fluid moves at the rate
of about 97*1 feet in a second. Now
electricity travels with a speed exceeding
1,200.000 feet in a second, and light
over 900,00,000. A shooting star
moves with a velocity of 200,000 feet in
in a second, and the earth in its orbit
around the sun, 100,000. A cannon
ball has a mean velocity of 1,800 feet in
a second; an eagle, 130; and a loco-
motive, 95. We thus perceive the
nervous fluid has no very remarkable
rate of speed — a fact which, among
many others, serves to indicate its
non-identity with electricity. Professor
Donders, of Utrecht, Holland, has
recently been makine some interestinff
experiments in regard to the rapidity 01
thought, which are likewise interesting.
By means of two instruments, which he
cidls the noematachograph and the nct^
282
S€led\ons.
ine:acbc7e:er. be promifei vrrBO isi-
pcr:*::; df— i.sl F:r tae pr«e-: he
ar.r.;-r.X9 '.^i: % «:=:.:'• :c« rf-u'r**
the bn:- :o 2^ f>^r * I'T-serr?. os*-
tre =:*-.■ 1- :al.rr^ cf c-r frjer.i*.
be f :r icerrian'i :b wnt ofbockkeeperp;
in «h:-rt f^r all havic^ i^poisuiienta of
a- J 1:1 i to Euse. F-r t;;e eye to
reoe'T* ai -^jKrasion requires ferentj-
ieT«- ;£«>:.. oaaaridihs of a aecond, aad
izr izyj eir U appreeiaie a tound. ono
lx-:d-«d i::i f^rtT-nine-tboasandths of
a M-^:=i are aeceMarr. The eye,
ii:e-«e':re. a:ts w:-Ji nearly twice tbo
rapcdi'j of toe ear. — (roJiur/.
A PlTZaXAL GOTERyMEXT.
h:ir^' ( Ar. 3 : no: to Ulk there; to treat
ibe swrvd pic:ure» wi:h due rererenoo
An. • : =ot :o uiz^c from one part to
aijtber: to »b^v 'awe. silence, raooUec-
I cr. and r«Teri*r.c»?* iA-t.7.: not tokiM
th« pi .burets except before or after tba
Arrrix ^Art. 8}. All particulare of tho
ciiar\:h cecorit.'ons are carefaLlj pro-
a^r.beJ. ar.d unless omamcr.ts oat of
keeping with the eacredne^ of the plaoe
and carre.i imigesarestrictlT forbiddeo.
Ti.e:i as :o re]:^.oas LbertT.anT member
o:' *.h^ Ru«s::in Church is subject 10 tho
f rfr::u.-e o: all oiTiI rights and exile to
S.:«r:j. CT 1^0 7 ears* service in a penal
c:rr5. i'' he j. ins ar.r other communion
,Ar.. 47-4 J and o}\ M. Ak-iakof baa
S?er. prossin^ for tlie repeal of these law?,
ani .Vis heen answered in the paper
t: a: v.' tvi-.v-.s .!..: :r :'..<. A'.l a.:.:";* called the ^:.»*ij bv M. Pogodine, who
:3 K-a^.a. M. AkAii.-. ::i ;*■-* rar*r
C1.1*' :.*•* .V.-^.vr .1* ^^s^: aiT>5»i.r2
rei r -'^> - Te-'j - K.:5<*a. He cc-r.-
r"-a.r* ",.m: ■._-» *u7<fr r:e-If-?» cf il'^e
cvr.7i : .> "..■■-. izi *«:c,:~mz.f* !:.rs :.^
i* ray:.*-.*, iir.i-x :o ::» r-:-*: :::.r._:e
ci:i.-<. S: .. r-.j-* rvir:..''-".jir ar* *_<r
a'x*~: r « .u- ;*,•!.■. >:=r- He;* nev;u.r,d
t.* S» i jT-'": '.a ii* a-i^niar.je «t
c'':-^,*''*. ;>xv .*!> cr. Su-iav* and c'.y.l
:»■*:; *.*..< : .i ^' r :* ir.* ^. -r :: . u- .'.er
ieT;-»." ;v .'.".:.,< :o i*?e rbi: all : .eir
o>. '.--vv. ^^jr ».'Tf!: Ti-i-^ ^^* :s'» :*:r.-
;',*#* .*r 1: \'v>: ."r.v a t.'jt; a-.i :he
0'.* '. A".i :v ..MTV a.;:l?. r.:.^* s-v to see
p"nA:o,.i ■-« *o! n- ■;: v'U-s .:v M,* r,\:,>e
IV". ; .V rv",; . . ■ ;. : 0 r ji r>\j .; . re V ra u^ s: "cr d
ct*. ur\ Ii * « *. i h p ic ; V ' aud • w . U:»r u:
*iT5:— "What in tlie world wouid jou
l:are w:'h Tour " liberty of c>?n8cience7"
If ti-.e G. Tcrnmeot were to listen to jou,
we «hou'.d ».\>n bare the population in
d-.tTi'n^nt scV.s, and half the great ladies
throwing tiiemsclves into the arms of
charmij:g abbcd.'
JArAXr-SE FUNERAL.
Ilu* vvrnv.sv^dens of tho .%>:.- >V.c
f !*:«.< c ^**"* •''■^ .iAv;:'"t of a f..'u»ra'i lie
*ttejKi*si tnnv.;'v. whi'n in Hi.-^o: -
»K^i \»«-.k,vi .io:;;i .1' Kv# l>t\ir r^
l^i »v«-.vf lv-»«MM'r* *v\»'r\Ni »".:ii in-
l^ifs .»i.o"* Vv» dxujb: l.u-i.iA'.N^ry o;' the
^1^) Ni»\; iMiMh* i«*>cr,u « v:e«roU\i
^^1,-t Vkit:t •!iA^on hiM i\ :vwl vMrryiniT
Sriiti ortVrinis* to tiio ti«MiO!(. r>»v> of
from a silver-toned bell, they would
strike a« it' to drive away evil influences.
At tor tise*e was the corpse, borne on a
cumbrous bier. The latter lookid liko
a sui:i;l tenipio. and was decorated with
tin»c>l a:ui with ribbons of parti-coloured
t viper. Xljeii came more priests, boya
>e4ri:){; Mo^«^l chairs and a group of
mouniiTs completely enveloped in whito
robe», with lon^: gauze veils thrown over
tbeir hoada and reaching to their feek
Notices of 'Books,
283
After ibem marobed three priests of the
highest order, robed in gorgeous Test-
mi'nts like those worn in the Bomish
Church. Each carried a fan— that
Oriental emblem of authoritj — and wore
• tall hat of golden-coloured silk, with
* cape falling upon the shoulders. Then
came about thirty of tho gentry, all
bare-headed — the fashion in Japan— and
dresfed in the official costume, with
swords by their sides; and a long line of
women and children brought up the
rear of the procession. It marched a
long distance into the country, and as it
wound along hill and valley with flaunt-
ing streamers and sounding cymbal«, the
scene was weird and unearthly. At last
they reached the appointed spot ; the
bier was laid on two stune pillars, its
frame was taken apart, and inside was
seen a cask like a small half-barrel well
hooped. This is the coffin, and into this
the corpse has been packed into a sitting
posture, and all spare room filled with
combustibles. The sacred chairs are
placed opposite this cask, and are oo»
cupied by the high priests, and on «
bench between them are laid the cereal
offerings. Tho people gather round and
commence a low-toned and monotonoua
chant, probably a mere repetition of tbo
name of their deity, after which one of
the high priests approaches the dead and
mutters a prayer. In the meantime tho
thirty men previously mentioned are-
knecling near by on a matting, and are
scattering bits of white paper, probably
to distract the attention or the devil,.
while the others secure the safety of th*
departed. Several of the assembly wear
white paper crescents on their foreheads,
and their duty appears to consist in
passing around and bowing very low to
the others. The services are closed by
burning the body, and after all others
retire the undertaker remains to gather
the ashes, which are placed in an urn.
and buried.'
NOTICES OP BOOKS.
Eec€Janv$Dei!* or, ChHUianity with-
out Mystery, London: Longmans,
Green, and Co.
In the abRcnce of all external clue to the
authorship of this remarkable volume, the
internal evidence suffices to prove that
it is t!ie work of a clergyman of the
Established Church of the southern
kingdom, somewhat advanced in years,
but full ol* fire, strong in abhori-ence of
Pojery, bitter with dislike of Mr. Glad-
■tono's anti-Iri^h Church Establishment
movements, hostile to Dissent, and a
hater of tiie Liberation Society. He is,
also, much dissatisfied with the doc-
trine of his own Prayer Book, and
with the condition of bis own com-
munion, and is an ardent advocate of
tenets which, if the Thirty-nine Articles
were thirty-nine men, would make the
hair stand on the head of some of them.
He is a hearty friend of temperance and
the Permissive Bill.
In his preface, the author states that
as a Bible-student he has from his early
years, in common, perhaps, with many
others of his class, eiperienced the un-
satisfactory character of Bible Com-
mentaries, hardly ever having been able
to find in any of them a conclnsiTe^
anrwer to a serious difficulty. May not
this (he asks) be accounted for by the
writers having commenced their labours
with mistaken views of the being and
character of the Almighty, and moulded
the Scriptures to suit such views, un-
conscious that they were looking through
a perverted medium? All commenta-
ries (he thinks) written upon tliia prin-
ciple are comparatively useless and often
misleading. Contrasted with these, a
key to the principles by which the Bible
is to be understood, cuupled with some
illustrations from familiar portions of
the Divine Word, mi<.ht seem to be
acceptable at the present juncture, if
only one could be found willing, to some
extent able, and withal bold enough, to
undertake the work. The author has
mode the attempt (be assures us), at least,,
in tho love of truth, and on belialf of all
parties ; and he humbly commends it to
the perusal of the Queen, and the bishops*
priests and deacons, and particularly of
the Houses of Convocation, in whoso
hands, he thinks, under fttvourab'e cir-
cumstances, authoritative declarations of
doctrine might ssfely be left.
284
Notices of Books.
Tbe book consistB of a dedication, a
prefaoe, and a list of contents, followed
Dj an iutroduotion, and a series of little
Msayt on detailed tberoes, suggested by
texts of Scripture, or otherwise. These
•Mays are in four divisions; on what
principle classified we have not been
•ble to detect. A brief synopsis of the
author's cardinal doctrine follows, and
the work is concluded with an appendix
of snti-alcoholic extracts from the
apeeches or writings of Dr. Begg, Lord
Bliaftesbury, Dr. R R. Lees, S. Warren,
Esq., Mr. M. D. Hill, Mr. C. Cuxton,
and others. The declaration of the
Council of the United Kingdom Alli-
ance is the last thing quoted.
That the writer is an ardent adherent
of the Alliance is evident from the fol-
lowing extract, — one out of many to the
aame effect that might ha^e been se-
l«jted:—
* The dangerous classes may be regarded
in two divisions : —
* 1. Those numerous bands of persons
of all ranks who infest society, and cause
perpetual and increasing hurt and danger
to life, to property, and to institutions
designed for the spread of trutli, the
increase of knowledge, and the general
advancement of the people. In this
division we may notice the victims of
ignorance, destitution, pauperism, crime,
disease, and insanity. Those are fast
multiplying in our midst, — a result flow-
ing of course from some adequate cause,
Something radical, therefore, in the form
of change is needed, going to the root.
This portion of the dangerous classes
must be brought to a knowledge of the
actualities, tbe physical and moral agen-
oies, which make them what they are ;
and, somehow or other, they must be
made willing to co-operate in their
removal.
*2. Those other classes who have
oontrollod the causes of these evils, thei/,
too, must see that it is their duty to aid
iu tlio possible abatement of the wrong.
* If the main cause be national drunken-
uesii, induced by the common sale and
general consumption of intoxicating
Cquors (Anp. 2), then that condition
uiuit be uiiHnged; and, until it be so,
^w^vy other effort will be but "beating
Ikv air." Improvement in this direc-
|iv4i tluniNnds that the people by some
IM«an« Nhall attain to clear-headedness,
IH^ kKHUtnie ao:so4sibIo to reason and
qnlt^iou : that their animal |)aa!«ion8 and
IIIMMaI propensities shall not bo pro-
^iM iuiu morbid aoiion by any agaaqy
which it ia within the aoope of weie^ to
limit or prevent. The first body of tbo
dangerous classes, deeply oriminal
though many«of them may be, aro not
the controllers of their own oiroiun-
stances ; their suproundings, unfafonr-
able to moral and spiritual culture^ aro
to a large extent determined by tho
ignorance or oovetonsneas of otban, and
henoe they must in some measure bo
viewed as social victims.
*In this second division we inolndo
thoee otiier classes who, simply to aervo
certain ends of their own, either da, or
suffer to be done, those things whioh
tend to create the first-named body of
the dangerous classes. In deaoribing
these, we deal only with matters of fact.
' (a) We want means (money) to atop
the cause of padpikism. The working
dasses are tempted by others into spend-
ing on intoxicating liquors, every filtj-
two weeks, at least sixty milUcms V*
pounds sterling of their wages.
' (6) We want to stop the operating
cause of public crime (and what stopa
this will also diminish private vice),
which society is called upon to punish
or to repress. Drunkenness is the great
originator and support of thi-*.
* (c) We want to prevent the decima-
tion of the people through the diseasea
that spring from causes that are either
preventible or removable.
* {d) We want to save from premature
DEATH the myriads that are '* slain*' in
our streets, and that outnumber tboao
who die in war or by pestilence, iii-
toxicaiing liquors destroy more than fall
by those other causes, year by year.
*(e) We want to displace nationml
ignorance, and for this purpose we re-
quire money for schools and school-
masters, and a willingness on tbe part
of the people to avail themselves of tbo
offered advantages. Intoxicating liquora,
and the drunkenness ensuing from their
common sale, frustrate the attainment of
these benefits (App. 3).
'(/) ^« want the dwellings of fho
pfople improved, by being ventilated,
furnished, and decorated (App. 4). Tbo
mouey now spent in fostering drunktit'
ness and its concomitant evils woold
effect this.
' {9) We want to see the national mind
made sane (App. 5), commeros flourish*
rags disappear, and the people well clad
with the clothes they manufacture, not
only for home consumption, but for
those who live in other lands. Com-
moroo flagSi our national wealth if ab-
Notices of Boohs. 285
•orbed (App. 6), and rags necessarily that warfare are of coarse esaentiallj
TMult from the use of the " drunkard 8 diyorse, the one from the other.
drink.** We want to see unjust and ' On the one hand we have the*' fohool" *
pemiotous laws rifbalid, and others in which to teach the young ; the " li-
founded in reason and justice substituted, brary" whereby to brine learners into
A House of Commons, filled with contact with the facts and experience. of
brewers and distillers, and the advocates the present and the past ; and the
•nd loTers of strong drink, is not willing "church" to inform and influence the
to tegishite in direct opposition to their spirit, and bring the souls of men to the
own means of acquiring wealth. These knowledge of their heavenly Father, so
men are wielding a power opposed to that by belief in His truth and obedience
every good, and engaged in a business to His law they may " save their souls
instrumental and incentive to the pro- alive." And on the other hand we have
duotion of everything that is to be the "gin-palace." where fiery poisons
deplored. are recklessly sold to all who will buy»
* (A) AboTe all, we want to bring the unfitting men, women, and children at
Cple at home and abroad to the know- every step both for the life that is, and
^ of the " truth as it is in Jesus," that which is to come ; and the " beer-
beoause " there is no other name given shop," second only to the " gin-palaoe."
under heaven i£;Aer«^^ they can be saved.*' in lacking its variety of "poisoned
That trinity of evils— t9i<ox<(»Mnor//^ficors, poisons." And this (writes the same
ike Uqu^r traffic^ and the drinkina cut- philanthropic brewer) is •• a development
^iMfu must give way to purer and better of the war between heaven and hetlt** —
tbinn, ere the Gospel in our dear old God, in His mercy, vouchsafing the
Bnglish homes ana oar dependenciee blessings of knowledge, supplemented
can learen the hearts of the people. by the reyelation of His divine truth
' The term " dangerous classes," when through the medium of the church ; and
applied simply to tlie pauperited^ iyno- (ffVt//ersan«i6r«iofrs, with their "legion"
fiaU^ and criminal law breakers, is a mis- of dependents, supported and sanctioned
nomer ; these are indeed dangerous, but by laws, in making which the people at
they will never cease ; on the contrary, lar^e have had no hand, — arranging
ther will increase and multiply upon their implements of warfare with a de-
society, so long as those agendes which ceptiveness and a power for evil which
produce them are morally or legally assumes the proportions of a diabolic
permitted to work. Whereas, if these empire. How long, O Lord ! how long!
were, so far as possible, removed, such shall these " dangerous classes" of the
** dangerous classes" would, by reclama- higher, and therefore more guilty and
tion, prevention, and the course of blamable kind, be permitted to make
nature gradually disappear. In other and multiply those lower "dangerous
words, the victims would cease, if they classes," who, but for their social su-
were no longer required, sought out, periors, might have been honest and
and in a very business-like way " ordered happy citizens, but who, under existing
6v" and for the victimiters themselves, circumstances, never can or never will
The more realty dangerous classes, then, be aught but social pests. Oh God I
•re assuredly those who devise, arrange, that a sense of Tut justicb. Thy mirct,
and carry out the plans and processes by and Thy love may constrain all sincere
which their dupes and victims are to lie citizens to perform their respective
aeduced and defrauded, robbed and duties, and tnat a way of escape from
ruined. The responsibility lying upon our distresses may be opened, for man's
them must be tremendous ; yet, as of deliverance, to Thy glory in Jesus Christ
old so now, because they deceive them- our Lord.'
selres, "hardening their o?m necks," Of the author's theoloey, we need
•nd wilfully shutting their eyes to the merely report tliat he holds that the
faets, many of them will never realise it ' Agnus Dei,' — Jesus Christ, is not a
till it be too late, in that hour when mere man, as the Socinians teach, nor
*' He that shall come, vrill come," and yet the Second Person of the Trinity, as
in the presence of adoring angels give taughtby theTripersonali8t8;butis*God
toerery man "accordina as his work [not the Son of GK)d, butOod] manifest
ahall bi," There is an internecine war m the fle»h,' in whom dwells ' all the ful-
going on between " heaven and hell ;" so ncss of the Godhead bodily ;' — in whom,
says a reputed philanthropist and a therefore, dwells the whole Dirine
bmrer (App. 7)> and the munitions of Trinity, which is a trinit} of essentials.
286
Notices of Books.
but not of persons. Thus tho personal
unity of God is maintained in conjunc-
, tion with the assertion of the doctrine of
the Trinity.
The Temperance Bible Commeniari/. Giv-
ing at One View^ Version^ Crilicism,
and Exposition, in Regard to All
Passages of Holy Writ bearing on
Wtne and Strong Drink, or lUuS'
trafing the Principles of the Temper-
ance Heformadon. By Frederic
Richard Lees and Dawson Burns. —
Second Edition. — London : S. W.
Partridge, 9, Paternoster Row.
Tnis remarkable contribution to Tem-
perance literature forms a Tolurae of
504 octavo pages, and in it the learned
and laborious authors have collected
every passage in tho Scriptures that can
be supposed to bear, however remotely,
on the wine and strong driuk question.
How largo is the number of verses thus
dealt with will be seen, when wo state
that 109 are found in the Pentateuch
alone, 116 in the folio vi ing books down
to Job inclusive, 26 in the Psalms, 51 in
the three books associated with the name
of Solomon, 190 in the Books of the
Prophets, and 144 in the New Testa-
ment. Each of the texts is first quoted
from the authorised version, then dealt
with to obtain accuracy of text, and
afterwards examined minutely as to its
bearing in the Temperance controversy.
A 'General Preface' serves as a brief
introduction to tho volume. A * Prelimi-
nary Dissertation' acquaints the reader
with tho various propositions that are
afterwards more fully established in tho
commentary, contains a summary ex-
position of the chief Hebrew terms
concerned in the inquiry, and deals with
the objections of \ arious antagonists. A
* Preface to the Notes* comes next ; and
it is not till wo arrive at tho fiftieth page
of tho volume that tho actual Notes on
the several texts of St^riptun> are reached.
These fill 394 closely i>rinted pages. An
actual examination of the Notes is neces-
Mry befon» justice can bo done to tho
painstaking minuteness of the inquiry.
A wries of appendices, and an index,
oonrludo tho volume. Tho first con-
tains n solution of Scripture texts, ex-
hibiting tlie luilhorised English version,
with iiuggostod emendations, of the
prtnciiuir passages concerning which a
ltfi»M rendering is dtvmed desirable.
J^BBfudu U gives a concordance of such
BBfcnr ChildM^ Greek, and Utin
terms as tend to illustrate the objeot of
this Commentary. In j^ppendix 0 we
have an article on the application of
* Yayin' and * Oinos' to the unfermentcd
juico of the grape. The index is a.
copious one.
Of the manner in which tho authors
have fulfilled their task, nothing needs
be said to those who are already ao-
quainted with their writings, except to
rank this, their latest work, as worthy
to take its place with their previous
achievements. Others we can only ad-
vise to examine the volume for toem-
eelves. For our own part, we know
of no more valuable contribution to
Temperance literature than this Com-
mentary. The authors' design in pre-
paring it is shown in the following
extract : —
* Christians everywhere unite in ao-
copting the saying of St Paul, that all
God-inspired Scripture is "profitable
for doctrine, for reproof, for correction,
for instruction in righteousness; that
the man of God maybe perfect, throughly
furnished unto all good works." (2
Tim. iii., 16, 17.) But the profit de-
rived from Divine Truth will necessarily
vary according to the degree of teach-
ableness and soundness of judgment
brought to its perusaL The Bible is
not accountable for the multifarious
errors and abuses it has been employed
to support; yet it is occasion tor la-
mentation that on not a few great ques-
tions, both of Science and Morals, tho
Living Oracles have been strangely mis-
apprehended and misapplied. Not the
illiterate and vicious alone, but succes-
sive generations of scholars and divines,
have enunciated mischievous fallacies
professedly extracted from the Scrip-
tures. In Physical Science, the fixity
and recent creation of the earth; in
Political Philosophy, the right of arbi-
trary government and negro slavery; in
Social Economy, the excellence of poly-
gamy ; in Ecclesiastical ethics, the duty
of persecuting heretics, and the obliga-
tion of unlimited submission to the
clergy : these, and other baneful dogmas,
have been z-^alous y propounded, not as
speculative theories, but as the practical
teachings of the Divine Word. That
such conclu-sions are now commonly
discarded, is not due to any change in
the Record, but to a marked improve-
ment in the manner of reading it ; and
(o a perception tliat there can be no real
contradiction between one portion of
Holy Scripture and another, or between
Notices of Books. 287
tbe SereUtion of God in Nature and in of each use, with the exprea sanction
His Written WilL and blessing of God.
* Not less obviouslj true is it, that * To some friends of the Temperanoe
•ocial customs and personal habits of movement a work of this character maj
diet and indulgence, continued from appear superfluous. Certain of them
childhood upwards, maj induc3 a state maj be disposed to denj that the ques-
of mind inconsistent with the unbiassed tion is one for Bible arbitration or
interpretation of Holy Writ. For ex- reference at all; while others maj be
ample, let a man be accustomed to regard prepared to concede that Scripture per-
intoxicating liquor as a necessity, or mits and approves the use of strong
even a valuable auxiliary, of life, and as drink, though also permitting and ap-
an innocent vehicle of enjovment and proving of abstinence from it. It is in
social entertainment; let him remain vain, however, to expect that the Bible
ignorant of all that can be said, and has will cease to be quoted as an authoritj
been proved, to the contrary ; let him on the subject of Temperance ; nor is it
consider the intemperance arisiqg from desirable that its store of facts bhould be
strong drink to be one of the inevitable overlooked, or its testimony left un-
forms of natural depravity, and there- examined and disregarded. Those who
fore to be classed in its origin as well as contend that " liberty to abstain'' is all
its results with other sins of the flesh ; that is needed as an argumentative basil
let him persuade himself that the or- for abstinence, will find themselves un-
dinary means of Christian evangelisation deceived when they attempt to urge the
jure Bufiicient to eradicate this prolific practice upon others as a duty ; for bow
Tioe with its dismal progeny of social can that bKB a duty, it will be asked, the
eurses: let all this be done, and it will opposite of which is sanctioned by both
no longer appear surprising that many the letter and the spirit of the i)ivine
of the allusions contained in both the Word? Besides, eren the argument
Old and New Testaments are construed from Christian expediency to which
in favour of the use of such drink, and such friends attach a high (if not exclu-
that other passages, clearly opposite in sive) importance, cannot be understood
their tendency, should be ignored or without an appeal to passages of Scrip-
explained away. This may be done in ture whose true meaning and legitimate
perfect good faith, and without any bearing have been wamuy contested,
oonsciousness of the process by which * In reply to the inquiry, which may
the one-sided exegesis is wrought out not be discourteously proposed, whether
'Accordingly, when the Temperance the authors of this Commentary can
Reformation began, some of the earliest claim to be exempt from a bias in favour
arguments brought against it were bor- of abstinence which may have inspired
rowed (as was supposed) from the and controlled their exposition ? — they
armoury of Scripture texts ; and down can but say, that they have been fully
to the present time many who hold aloof sensible of their liability to such an in-
from that cause, defend their estrange- fluence, and have therefore endeavoured
ment by a similar appeal to Scripture to counteract its operation by carefully
precedent and approval. Some even weighing all adverse arguments, and by
now go the length of charging abstainers placing before the reader the materials
with a conduct at variance not only with by which he may form for himself an
the privileges, but with the duties of the independent judgment as to tbe correct-
Christian dispensation, and accuse them ness of theinlerences drawn. They haye
of seeking to impose a code of asceticism honestly sought, with trust in Divine aid,
contrary to the genial and liberal spirit to discover tbe truth contained in the
of the Gospel. In controverting what pas.sages successively discussed ; and, in
have been represented as the views of consigning tbe fruit of their labours to
Temperance writers upon tbe wines tbe press, they pray that the blessing of
named in Scripture, some critics have heaven may attend jt so far as it is
ignorantly attributed to them the most adapted to promote the faithful, intelli-
absurd positions — such as that all those gent study of Scripture, and a more
wines were unfermented and unine- perfect sympathy with the spirit of the
briating, — while they themselves have rsalmist, " Teach me, O Lord, the way
neglected to distinguish between the of Thy statutes ; and I shall keep it unto
Tarious terms translated '* wine/' and the end. Give me understanding, and
have confounded the use of intoxicating I shall keep Thy law ; yea, I shall ob-
liqaor by men of old, and the permission serre it with my whole heart" '
288
Notices of BooJt9.
Th* Social and PoKiieal Dependence of
Women. By Charles Anlhonj, Jun.
Fourth Edition. London : Looginans,
Oroen, andCo. 1868.
This cmaj, which was adverted to some
time back amongst the Notices of Books
in *MeIiora/ has now arrived at its
fourth edition. This fact adds another
iiroof of th^inoreating attention its sub-
eot iH receiving, to this one advanced at
Norwich the other dav, when Miss
Becker read her paper before the British
Atsociation for tne Advancement of
Science. We have already declared our
•sflcnt to the justice of the claim for
political equality so ably set up in this
esuav, as well as our dissent from some
of the arguments on which it is founded.
The distinction of sex, we repeat, is not
superficial ; it is intus as well as in cute,
and extends through every department
both of soul and bcxly. But distinction
is one thinff, inferiority is another. Who
shall decide the relative values of the
bass and treble clefs? It is virtually
involved in the arguments of roost of
the advocates of women's rights, not
excluding Mr. Charles Anthony, that
girls would come to sing bass as well as
the men, if they were not secluded in
early life, and deprived of the educa-
tional advantages of boys. We have no
respect for sudh notions. Yet for the
freeadmission of woman toallthelieldsof
use and exercise for which she feels herself
adapted or adaptible, we earnestly plead ;
it is her right, and by all means let her
have it. Wlien all is done, the indelible
sexual distinction will nssert itself in the
mass of men and women, none the less
because there are exceptional men who
squeak and have smooth faces, and excep-
tional women who speak gruffly and
grow short whiskers or moustaches.
A Selection of JEaop's Fables, Metrically
Tratisla'ed from the Greek Original,
and Modernised. Cambridge: Eors-
ter and Jagg. 1868.
A wiLL-MKAMT endcsvour to promote a
good cause, bat» unfortunately, the
author does not see the lino between ih&
sensible and the ridiculous, and nuui
across it without meroy.
Letferg by JDiteipului to a Friend tffll
Moderate Drinking. Belfast: Henry
Greer, 31, High-street
A BERrEs of seven letters, in which a
friend is reasoned with and advised to
abandon 'moderate drinking.' Tha
method of treatment ia thoughtful,
earnest, and Christian.
The Fixed Charader of Goi*$ DeaHflffi
in Nature and Grace, in this Life oiM
the Life to come. Lestoni from tk$
Sealing oj the Paralytic. By the Her.
G. St Clair, of Banbury. Oxford:
Henry Alden. 35, Com Market-street
A sBBMoif on Mark il, 1 — 12. A ver^
sensible exposition of the literal senn
of the passage.
The Hive. A Sloreknue of Material for
Working Sunday School TeacUn. A
penny monthly.
A CAPITAL help.
Ihe Scattered Nation. Edited by 0.
Schwartz, D.D. Elliot Stock, 62,
Paternoster Bow, London.
The Appeal, a Magazine for the Peoplt.
Elliot Stock, 62, Bstemuster Bow.
The Church. A penny monthly raan^
sine. London: Elliot Stock, &,
Paternoster Row.
Old Jonathan, the District and PartMk
Helper, An illustrated penny
monthly.
The Lifeboat, or Journal of the Natkmid
Lifeboat Institution. Issued quarterij«
14, John-street, Adelphi, London.
The Church of England Temj
Mogatine. A monthly journal of in-
telligence. London : Seelev, Jackson,
and HaUiday, and a W. Partridge*
Meliora.
THE LIMITS OP STATE ACTION.
1. On Liberty. By John Stuart Mill. People^s Edition.
London : Longman and Co. 1865.
2. History of Civilization in EnglaTid. By Henry Thomas
Buckle. 3 vols. London: Longman and Co. 1867.
3. The Contemporary Review. November, Article 4, The
Relative Functions of Church and State in National
Education, By Professor Plumptre.
THE greatest problem of civilisation is, to avoid a possible
despotism. We do not mean, of course, the vulgar,
typical despotism of a single imperial will, backed by an army
and the whole force of rough, rudimentary laws, working out
its own selfish ends, crushing out human freedom, and rioting
in the absolute satisfaction of its own caprices and desires.
A despotism of that kind is an impossibility where humanity
has been quickened by the faintest breath of civilisation. The
despotism we refer to is one of law, of society, of maxims ; some-
times impalpable, as in fashion, frequently just in idea, though
not in mode, and always the result of centuries of advancing
civilisation. It is so subtle that we are not always conscious
of it, so all-pervasive that it binds us, as with a zone, and so
consonant with our natural indolence and subservience that
we ridicule it, and sport with our chains. There are philoso-
phers who tell us it is social progress, sceptics who assure us
that it is the natural evolution of law, and moralists who
would have us yield to it a blind, unquestioning obedience.
The poet says, ^ the individual withers and the world is more
and more,' and the politician hints that we have simply to
read state for world, and we have translated from poetry into
fact a fundamental axiom, which holds true of all civilisations
whatsoever, be they monarchical or republican in form.
Vol. 11,— No. 44. T
290 The Limits of State Action.
In having admitted the character of the danger, we have byno
means confused it with the natural functions of civilised govern-
ment. It is hardly possible yet to erect government into a
science, and yet it is every day losing its unscientific character.
At present we rule by a few empirical maxims, and are con-
tent with a certain amount of orderly progress, produced at the
expense of much waste of time, effort, and officialism ; but we
shall presently leaven our crudities with genuine philosophy,
ascertain whither we are going, and balance the probable
effect of extension in one direction, with contraction and
defeat in another. Until we are able to do so, laws will be
seemingly harsh, freedom restrained, and despotism legalised.
At the present rate of law-making, unchecked by a truer
estimate of the limits of state duty, we shall reach a despotism
in practice, if not in name. ' Fewer laws, I beseech you/ is
the plaint of many wise men, as it wa^ of M. Michelet. We
shall, however, go on making them, rightly and wrongly, until
we clearly understand the virtue of state-rule and the dig^iy
of individual citizenship. Other science consists in the
reduction of phenomena to the fewest possible laws, and when
politics cease to be ruled by expediency, and are history
blending with prophecy, we shall take up a vantage CTOund
from which it will be possible to reconcile the highest nnman
freedom with the most faithful attention to the common social
necessities of protection from crime, vice, and disease. At
present, we are suffering from anarchy on the one side, and a
patchy, mean, and cowardly despotism on the other. Let us
explain ourselves. In the first place, we suffer ourselves to
be ridden to death by a few grand half-truths about the
absurdity of governmental interference in this or that direction.
This is what we mean by a despotism of maxims. The
sounding phrase, 'liberty of the subject,' makes us willingly
submit to all manner of infringements of our liberty. Shoals
of predatory people are permitted to make war upon society,
upon our persons, our properties, our health, our food, our
very existence. The ragged urchins who tumble about our
streets ; the vagrants who cant, sing, beg, and steal ; the
professional thieves, burglars, assassins ; the food and drink
ttdulterators ; the noisome quacks, and some of their still
more pestilent victims; the thousands who are ignorant,
vicious, ready to lift a hand against everybody, are all
sheltered by this shallow philosophy, and must chuckle to
themselves at the potency of a pretty maxim. The law is no
terror to them. Most of them know how much punishment
it can give them for a given offence, as well as a criminal
lawyer or a stipendiary magistrate. They band together,
The Limits of State Action, 291
when committed to a life of 6rime, to provide money for legal
expenses, and for the support, when they are in prison, of those
dependent upon them, and they are nice on the subject of
prison dietaries. To catch a poor Fenian, who is maddened
by a silly but patriotic dream, we suspend the Habeas Corpus ;
to justify our being the freest people under the heaven, we
permit known criminals to be at large so long as they are
clever enough to evade our police, and cannot be inductively
suspected of some unusually daring oflFence. It is not much
better in other things. Free trade is good, and no one but
an idiot now denies it, but free trade in poisons, in adulterated
food, in fire-arms, in prostitution, is a physical and moral
calamity, which we shall presently come to view with a
purified and enlarged vision. Look at other examples — ^for
instance, our dislike of compulsory labour and education.
Why should the sturdy vagrant thrive under our poor-laws,
with a minimum of physical exertion? Why should the
children of the drunkard, the idler, the criminal, the starving
poor, grow up in ignorance, with a blunted moral sense, and
the consciousness that, inasmuch as society crushes them,
they must speedily make war upon it T Voluntary labour and
eflFort are very grand, no doubt, but what anarchy they are
leading to I
The functions of the State, men say, are to give free play to
all, and to crush none, if possible. Granted ; but what is the
test of success ? Of what use is one man^s freedom to live
honourably, virtuously, beautifully, if he is not protected to
the utmost against aggression, not only by the punishment of
the aggressor when he is found out, but by the prevention of
his plotting, his disposition of plunder, his very criminal
training ? The honest citizen is invested by law in all
directions, as to bequests, voting, taxation, and a hundred
other things. He feels it no loss of liberty, though in one
sense it really is, to comply with these forms, to pay his debts,
to marry according to law, to trade according to law, to respect
the constitution under which he lives, municipal and par-
liamentary, and to bring up his children to do the same. We
demand of him self-sacrifice in a hundred ways, and he cheer-
fully makes it. He pays dearly, usually, for being on the side
of peace and order. Does the professional criminal pay as
much ? Do we ever seek to influence him through his pre-
dominant quality — love of liberty? We incarcerate him,
clothe, feed, and shelter him, when he is found guilty ; and
when his term of sentence has expired, he returns whence he
came, possibly a better, more generally a more hardened
man. He has had a taste of the worst, and all he sets before
292 The Limits of State Action.
him is, either a prolonged sentence for another offence, or
loss of life by hanging should he advance to the very acme
of criminality. The difference between the two men is this :
the honest man is girt about with law in all directions, — the
criminal only feels it when he blunders, or when others are
more than usually vigilant, or acute. Beside law, in fixed
regulations, the honest man is bound by the fashions, the
convenances, the moralities of the society in which he moves.
We do not for one moment say this is not right ; we are con-
trasting the more or less conscious despotism which goodness
has to endure with the licence which badness enjoys. It is
possible our terms may be disputed, but we have no fear that
the position itself will be denied. The struggling, honest
man frequently staggers under the heavy load of imperial
restrictions on his absolute freedom, whilst they sit com-
paratively light on the man whose life is one long gratification
of his savage instincts and lusts, for we must not suppose
there is no actual pleasure in this preying upon society, low
and brutalising though it may be. Why, however, should it
be so ? The most trivial, momentary criminality of the weak
but honest man, brings him within the reach of the criminal
laws. It would seem, in fact, as if our police-system were
more intended to keep the honest, honest — to enclose them,
as it were — than to watch the criminal, and prevent, as well as
punish crime. Thus, it is more difficult for the honest man ta
begin to be criminal, in the first instance, morally as well as
socially, than it is for the criminal to commit the fifth or sixth
offence ; whereas it ought to be more difficult for any man,
legally, we mean, to commit the sixth than the first crime,
though the habit may have stifled the conscience. What
society does in the first case, police espionage ought to do in
the second. We are now leaving out of view the question in
casuistry, as to whether a first sin is morally worse than every
single act after a certain habit is formed ; we simply insist on
the necessity of the State attempting by law, after a criminal
habit is fixed, to set up some detective, condemnatory apparatus
which shall act as respect for law, in the individual and the
mass, does in the case of a first offence. As it is, when the
strain of this consensus is taken off, we impress on the
criminal mind the necessity of exportness, in a Spartan kind
of method. We punish him when we find him out, but not
otherwise, unless he is blundering enough to be seen and
caught under suspicious circumstances. If he has been known
to be a criminal for years, has been convicted, imprisoned, has
undergone several terms of penal servitude, we still permit
him to be at large, because ours is a free country, though if
The Limits of State AcUon. 293
lie were a lunatic, or an idiot, we should have no scruples in
limiting his freedom, and subjecting him to rigorous
surveillance.
A truer theory of the limits of State action would correct
our behaviour in this and many other things. The highest
duty of the Legislature is not to go on perpetually making
fresh laws, as occasion seems to require, and popular feeling
demands ; but to understand where the pressure of the State
may be relaxed, or taken oflF altogether, and in what directions
it ought to be increased and vigorously persisted in, con-
venient and current philosophic maxims notwithstanding. In
this way, and this only, can the science of government become
a factor in human progress, instead of a feeble expression of a
civilisation already attained without its aid. We are aware that
this will be denied, and that one of the most vigorous intellects
of the present day is against us. ' The whole scope and ten-
dency of modem legislation,' says Buckle, ' is to restore things
to that natural channel from which the ignorance of preceding
legislation has driven them. This is one of the great works
of the present age, and if legislators do it well, they will
deserve the gratitude of mankind.' * We venture to think this
is simply a brilliant half-truth. A review of past legislation
undoubtedly shows that repealing laws is a most important
part of our legislative work. It is nothing more than the
wisdom of to-day sitting in perpetual judgment on the past.
As civilisation grows more complex, and human society de-
composes into sections, with varying necessities and desires,
we must remove old barriers and allow for freer expansion.
But this is merely one aspect, or one function of Government,
though where civilisation is many-sided and a nation has a
checkered history, it may come to be very important. The
other aspect is towards the future ; the other function to assist
in shaping it. It may be a nice problem to detach the
influence of the nation from the reaction of its Legislature upon
it, and the difficulty may induce us to imagine that because
public opinion is sometimes omnipotent, and legislators simply
localise it. Government can neither beat it back when it is
formed, nor create it when it does not exist. We do not
claim for resistance the character of the highest State- craft,
but there are times when it may claim to have become so ; as,
for instance, when the nation is panic-stricken, as it has
recently been over Fenianism in England and in New South
Wales. Had the English Parliament been as fanatical as
many public writers were, immediately after the Clerkenwell
» Vol. 1, p. 276.
294 The Limits of State Action.
explosion, we should have passed. a law as absurd as the New
South Wales Treason-Felony Act. The creation of opinion
by legislative projects is strikingly seen in two matters : the
Irish Church queation, and the Electric Telegraph Bill. Pro-
nouncing no opinion here on the merits of the first, we simply
note the illuminating effect it has had on the public mind, the
new views of Church and State it has created, and the political
education that has grown out of it. Hundreds of persons have
had to form an opinion upon a matter they previously knew
nothing about, and discuss principles of which they knew as
little as they did of the law of storms, or the precession of the
equinoxes. They have been led to study Irish history, to
consider the effect of race upon politics, and to think and
reason in a hundred new and different ways. The Telegraphs
Bill originated, we believe, with the Government, at least with
Ml*. Scudamore, one of its trusted servants, and the scheme
for Government purchase and control was in noway the result
of public opinion, or pressure from without. The measure
was seen to be good, was in fact an imitation of what was
being done elsewhere, and was almost unanimously acquiesced
in at the first blush of the matter. Its effect upon our
civilisation will probably be as great as the monopoly assumed
in letter-carrying — a very striking contradiction to Mr.
Buckleys dictum. We may say the same of railway legislation^
for any parochial system of iron-roads would have robbed us
of half the advantages of steam, and it was quite open to the
State, in the early unformed condition of public opinion on the
subject, to have refused to assert its right to regulate the sale
of land by giving compulsory power of purchase. If the new
Parliament should adopt the principle of compulsory secular
education, it would be an originative instrument of progress,
especially if there should be grafted upon it a scheme of State-
managed and supported technical schools, for on neither
question is opinion unanimous, or capable of directing legisla-
tion. It seems clear to us, then, that Legislatures or Govern-
ments may become, and when wisely managed invariably are,
potent factors in both mental and material progress. The very
existence of Government necessitates special education, and
we agree to call that education politics, and it is through it
that we are constantly shaping the future. The doctrine of
expediency, which too generally governs political life, is
admitted by Buckle himself to be only a temporary one, to be
simply a rule ' on all subjects not yet raised to sciences.'
Admitting, therefore, that the State is an active element in
civilisation, either as a creating or co-operative force, we have
to ascertain its fundamental principles of action, and trace its
The Limits of StcUe Action. 295'
current and legitimate tendencies. Neither of these problems
should be very difficult, and the one throws a flood of light on
the other. The State, in scientific terms, is the reaction of
,the whole upon its parts. It exists for the individual |)er «e,
and for society as a community of individuals. Its funda-
mental principles are, therefore, twofold — ^to assist in the
development of the individual, and to reconcile his fireedom
with the artificial conditions of life. Intellectually, morally,
and religiously, the State must allow to every man as much
freedom as is conducive to his individual ends, so much and
no more. Thought must be free, politically and religiously ;
hence we must have a free press, right of public meeting,
untaxed paper, privilege of association, liberty of worship*
There are, however, fair limits even to these, and they begin
where individuality and society overlap. Laws must be
respected, life sacred, trade honest, marriage regulated,
political power subject to restrictions, crime and treason
punished. The State must levy taxes to find us protection,
by armies, navies, police ; to provide for the higher adminstra-
tion of justice; to sustain the supreme head of the State for
the time being ; and to regulate our international intercourse.
All these are restrictions on individuals, but for the common
benefit of all. We have no right to grumble at the facts,
though we may at their intensity, inequality, or incidence.
All civilised beings accept most of these forms of State
control, which are as natural as the laws of life or health ; and
fanciful scientific observers are for ever tracing resemblances
between the physical and the political, as we may sometimes
do with profit. Thus, if we want an image of true State
influence, we may find it in the sea, never keeping pre-
cisely the same limits, receding here, advancing there. It
precisely typifies present tendencies. When free trade was
a thing unknown, we had more liberty in other matters. In-
human sports were more common ; we had no Factory Acts,
no courts for the cheap recovery of small debts, no stringent
laws against duelling and bribery, and unlimited licence in
sanitary matters. For the loss of freedom in these matters,
we have gained an equivalent in other directions, and so long
as we gain freedom in the right direction we are in no danger
from the pervasive omnipotence of the State. This should be
the cardinal virtue of State action — freedom to do right, op-
position and loss of liberty in doing wrong. But it should be
more than a blind tendency, a struggling principle. We should
think it out, and make it the test of righteous government.
Protection in trade was wrong, because it stood opposed to the
brotherhood of nations, and free trade was the only reactiva
296 The Limits of State Action.
influence that could temper and destroy the natural dispersion
of races. Protection was also wrong because it was an undue
interference with the laws that underlie production, demand,
and supply, and its abolition was the first practical acknow-
ledgment that the true science of government is to understand
law, and let it have free play, whether it be in trade, intellect,
or religion. Thus, government is a double process of relaxa-
tion and tension ; of the first in all that concerns the true
individual, and the second in all that concerns the collective
mass, called society. It is necessary to protect the first from
any undue interference on the part of the second ; the second
from any aberrations, or Ucence, on the part of the first.
The tendency of individual freedom is to decomposition, dis-
persion, speciality; of society to despotise, to absorb, to
confuse. By allowing fair swing to the former, we secure a
healthier spirit in the dominance and reaction of the whole,
and exactly in proportion as the State does so allow it, its
other functions come out into distinctness and assume their
proper rank. ' In low, undeveloped forms of society,' says
Mr. Herbert Spencer, 'where there is yet but little differente-
tion of parts, and little specialisation of functions, this
essential work (" protecting its subjects against aggression'^)
discharged with extreme imperfection, is joined with endless
other work : the Government has a controUing action over all
conduct, individual and social — ^regulates dress, food, abla-
tions, prices, trade, religion — exercises unbounded power. In
becoming so constituted as to discharge better its essential
function, the Government becomes more limited in the power
and habit of doing other things. Increasing ability to per-
form its true duty, involves inability to perform all other
kinds of action.' *
We may, therefore, dismiss a good deal of current cant about
the danger of being over-governed, so long as the stream of
government, the dominance of the whole over the parts, is
in the right direction — the development of man, and the
betterment of his social state. We are, also, now in a posi-
tion to apply, practically, the foregoing inductions from
history, and deductions from individual life, to several modem
questions of serious moment, stating freely where and how
they must be rigorously, lightly, or compromisingly applied.
Let us begin with education, as most important. Has any
individual, living in a social state, an indefeasible right to be
ignorant, and therefore potentially a pauper, or a criminal ?
* Representatiye (Joyernment — what is it good for ? Essays, Second Serial,
p. 226. Williains and ^orgate, 1863.
The Limits of State Action. 297
Has the State a preventive, as well as a repressory and puni-
tive right, duty, or function ? Again, is it the duty of the
State to direct, as well as enforce, education ? To the first
question, no wise man can answer yes, and by refusing so
to answer he has in part disposed of the second, and some-
what narrowed the third. Mr. Mill calls it ' almost a sel&-
evident axiom that the State should require and compel the
education, \ip to a certain standard, of every human being
who is bom a citizen,* and Professor Plumptre is even more
explicit and exacting, though not less just. We quote the
passage as a convenient summary of what has been, and
what remains to be, done.
< The State, then, looking to the end for which it exists [that it may deyelope
the national society, as such] is bound to see that the education which is needed
for the attainment of that end, is within the reach of all its members. If ignorance
be producti?e of crime and pauperism, it is justified in remoying that cause of
evil, even at the cost of some interference with indiyidual freedom. If skilled
labour be less serviceable than unskilled in the increase of a nation's wealth, it is
justified in demanding of all who share its protection a certain minimum of skill. It
may treat the neglect of parents to provide that education for their children, where
they have the power, as not only a sin but a crime, to be punished like other crimes by
imprisonment or fines. It may restrain the premature employment of the young
before their education is completed, or compel those who employ them to provide
for their instruction. It may apply a part of the national revenue in brineing ita
education to the doors of those who are unable to provide it for thems^ves, or
may sanction the imposition of local taxes for the same purpose. It may legiti-
mately claim and exercise any amount of inspection and control, where an educa-
tion is given which the State does not originate, in order to ensure the fulfil-
ment of conditions which it regards as indispensable. The right of the State to
make education compulsory, to levy an education rate, general or local ; to appoint
inspectors for every school in the country, private or public, endowed or unen-
dowed; to make the very function of teaching dependent upon evidence that
satisfies its officers as to the competency of the teacher, takes its place with the
other primary rights of the national society. It has an almost axiomatic character.
It must be accepted as soon as stated, unless we are prepared to maintain a doctrine
as to the rights of men, and the freedom of the individual will, which would
land us in lawlessness and anarchy. The extent to which the right should be
exercised, when it is fitting to assert it to the uttermost, when it becomes irritating,
vexatious, and oppressive, is a question of expediency and degree. It is always
wise to keep the assertion of a right in the back ground as a reserve force, and to
accept, as far as may be, the results which it is intended to bring about when they
come as the fruit of men's free activity «'*
Our third question still remains unanswered, and those who
are most active in advocating compulsory education hesitate
to boldly answer it in the affirmative. Mr. Mill discusses it
in his essay on ^ Liberty.' He states that objections urged
with reason ' against State education, do not apply to the
enforcement of education by the State, but to the State's
taking upon itself to direct that education ; which is a totally
difierent thing.' The former he supports ; the latter he goes
* P. 385-6.
298 The Limits of Stale Action.
' as far as any one in deprecating/ The distinction is to be
insisted npon^ because^ in recent discussions, it Has been.
entirely lost sight of. Whilst, therefore, the test of teaching
ability may safely be lefl in the hands of the State, and, if
need be, by agreement, in our Unirersity corporations as well,
local authorities should be left to settle subjects in their own
way. This removes the objection to the dead uniformity
characteristic of a national system, civil, or clerical ; it allows
districts to adapt their teaching to special requirements^
naval, mining, manufacturing, or agricultural, as the case may
be ; and it recognises that social freedom which no one would
wish to see lost in a prison-like sameness. There is no reason
why the State should not encourage special subjects^ as
elementary political economy, and industrial history, bat
beyond that few would wish it to go. It might also give its
imprimatur to class-books, written by eminent men, upon
these and other topics, and continue to hold and exercise
authority over building and sanitary arrangements, giving to
local bodies compulsory power of purchase of land, so that no
serious inconvenience should arise, in country districts, as to
distance. The form compulsion should take, and whether
education should be gratuitous or not, purely sectarian or
religious without being denominational, are matters of detail
we need not discuss in tracing the limits of a principle.
Next in importance to education is the question of State
limits relative to our criminal population. We have already
incidentally referred to it, but the subject has latterly assnmM
such importance as to warrant an attempt to show that mach
may and ought to be done on the theory of protection from
aggression, which is the grand duty of representative govern-
ment. To punish crime is not enough. Our reformatory
arrangements are a confession of the failure of punishment^
and an eflFort to prevent vicious habits from vigorously rooting
themselves in the character. We have now, it seems to us,
to begin a new movement at tbe other end, so as to effectivdy
deal with those persons in whom criminal habits are fixed ana
inr^radicable. How shall we do it ? And why ought we to do
it? Let us answer the second question first. The State
exiMts for the welfare and the protection of all, and the pre-
ihiUtry classes make themselves legal aliens. They do not
TM'Xfi^niHO the justness of the laws, at least practically, and
iiicy do not respect the rights, property, and peace of society.
'lluiy are an unproductive class, evade taxes, and discharge no
Mingle doccTit citizenal function. "When convicted of crime,
w« puniMh them; but, except they are ticket-of-leave men,
ilm Htato resigns its authority over them the moment their
The Limits of State Action. 299
term of sentence has expired. A few of them eventually
become prisoners for life, but the majority use their newly-
acquired freedom to return to their old prowling, predatory
habits. As enemies of the State, in esse or in posse, the duty
of the authorities is to look after them, to restrain them, to
convince them by sleepless vigilance that a life of crime cannot
be permitted, and means loss of liberty and loss of citizenship.
This truth has been lately forced upon us in our large cities,
especially in the metropolis, in many painful ways. New
forms of crime make their appearance, perplex the authorities,
and bring disrepute upon our protective system. The police
are at fault, the public is alarmed, and by the time we have
devised some fitting punishment for these offences, criminal
invention and expertness, favoured by facility of organisation
and co-operation, have planned some new method of attack,
more daring and ingenious than the other. What are we to
do ? Will simply increasing the police prevent them ? or are
we to be driven to bolder expedients ? The latter is, we con-
ceive, the wiser policy. Men who have forfeited the rights of
citizenship have no longer any claim to the liberty that is
the essential part of these rights. We have, then, to fix
some test of avowed criminality, and shape our measures
accordingly. When, for instance, a culprit has been three,
or four, or five times convicted of a serious offence, as bur-
glary, robbery with personal violence, let him be put under
the police surveillance, which forms such an admirable feature
of the Irish convict system. Let him have a conditional
ticket-of-leave for life ; the conditions being that he shall re-
port himself every month at the police station of his district,
or give good assurances that he is living an honest, industri-
ous life. Failure in either of these qualifications for liberty,
should entail incarceration for double the term of the last
sentence. Photographs, descriptions, and a more centralised
system of police administration woidd enable this plan to
work with ease and at very small expense. A second plan was
proposed in the Times recently by a chairman of quarter
sessions, namely, that after three or four convictions, such
persons ' be sentenced to labour for life — not exactly in penal
servitude, but to work in some Government establishment,
under supervision, and only to receive a remission of sentence
under the conditions of the licence of 1864.** The principal
objection to such a scheme is, its expense ; but since unre-
formed criminals must be kept by society, one way or another,
it surely would be better, and more economical, to main-
* The Times, November 4, 1868.
300 The Limits of State Action.
tain them by a system, and get as mucli productive labour in
return as possible. At present we keep them and get none.
A third plan, in which an increase of policemen would be in-
dispensable, would be to form a daily and nightly cordon
round suspected centres and localities. Legitimately, how-
ever, this plan would be a branch of the first. A fourth plan
has also been suggested, and has great merits. It is to
destroy the co-operation of capitalists who enable the robber-
criminal to live. First, to make harbouring a thief a sever^y
punishable ofience, which it is not at present. Secondly,
to increase in stringency the regulations aflFecting the receivers
of stolen goods, especially pawnbrokers, and flash-house
keepers. By these means we might, assuredly, deprive the
predatory classes of their means and material of war. What
to do with the children of criminals, under long or life con-
victions, is another branch of this subject, previously dealt with
in this Eeview. Loss of citizenship, by perverse criminality,
ought to carry with it loss of all rights, and domestic duties
can never be more than sparingly or viciously performed by
those who neither respect the moral law within nor the
national law without.
Trade, again, has dangers that require to be guarded
against, so that absolute free-trade in every thing is an
absurdity. Mr. Mill admits that in many things restriction is
desirable, but we go very much further than he does, without,
we think, endangering the liberty of the individual he so
strenuously upholds. The sale of reputed poisons is mani-
festly a matter for stringent regulations, and any plan that
would prevent ignorant shopkeepers in country villages from
combining two trades, as grocer and drUggist, and doing mis-
chief by soiling drugs in the latter, would be very desirable.
As to reputed poisons, all we need do is to make it more
difficult to procure them for criminal than innocent, industrial,
or experimental purposes. Free- trade in strong drink would
be an injury, and this is admitted by existing restrictions.
No lover of his species would desire to see intoxicating liquors
sold as freely as groceries are, and power of local self-govern-
ment on a matter of this kind seems to harmonise the liberty
of the individual with the claims of national society. The
tendency of the times is towards Government centralisation
on strictly national questions, as the administration of justice,
and as Viscount Amberley has shown in the case of Devon-
shire,* it would lead to local improvement and real thrift, though
it requires to be corrected by local independence on such
* See the Western Daily Mercury for November 6, 1868.
The Limits of State Action. 301
matters as admit of variation according to the disposition of
a district. County financial boards are an efibrt in this
direction, and wo are not sure that in the future these local
organisations will not play a much more important part than
they do now. While on this part of our application, we may
say a word respecting food proper. Tradesmen are no longer
allowed to sell diseased meat with impunity, and the principle
demands extension. Why should any other kind of food be
sold, with deleterious compounds introduced into it ? If the
State protects society against diseased meat and fish, why
should it not also condemn adulterated milk and other things ?
We really see no reason why it should not. K legal regulations
on these matters would prove burdensome, the least the
State could do would be to appoint a chemical analyst in
every large town, whose certificate should have a moral if not
legal weight, and who should be paid by a nominal salary
from the State, and a small fee for every case in which his
judgment was required. Immoral trading would be as efiec-
tuaUy checked by this plan as it was by the loosening of the
restraints on frontier trade ; and now we have introduced a
system of inspecting weights and measures, common sense
demands that it should be done. The Factory Acts must also
be applied to agriculture, unless our new educational arrange-
ments wiU prevent the employment of young children in
continuous labour before they are fitted for it, and have
received any education. The farmers will stoutly resist it we
know, and already show fight, but if the ancients regarded
the cultivation of land to be more sacred than trade and
manufacture, there is no reason why we should be influenced
by their folly. The deck-loading of ships is another matter
for State interference, because many lives are wantonly im-
perilled by it. The working men of Edinburgh and Leith
nave very properly made this, and the inspection of vessels
before proceeding to sea, a part of their political programme.*
Unhealthy occupations, and trade combinations are other
matters where individual liberty may be justly curtailed or
modified. Respecting the latter, we may say that Mr. Roe-
buck^s idea of making Trade Union subscriptions recoverable,
like common debts, would be monstrously unjust to literary
and social voluntary associations, where nothing but a
parliamentary charter bestows such a right. Other points
in which the State may legitimately interfere with trade
in the interests of the nation will readily suggest them-
selves, and need not be dwelt upon here. For instance, the
* See the Spectator for October 2i, 1868.
302 The Limits of State Action.
goreming principle of trade taxation slionid be to press as
lightly as possible on necessaries^ but heavily on loxnries.
Armorial bearings and jewellery obviously ought to bear more
taxation than tea, sugar, or foreign articles of food. Works
of art, pure and simple, are sources of national culture that
may be justly placed in an intermediate position.
We have only space to make two other applications. The
first, to State monopolies ; the second, to sanitary matters.
A great outcry has been made against the Electric Telegraph
Bill, and the probability, growing out of it, that the State
may some day purchase and work our railway system. The
issue is simply this : Ought the State to do for all what it
can do infinitely better than private and voluntary associations ?
We admit the fact in protection from criminals, and every
policeman is our answer. We admit it in trade, to some
extent, and are likely to admit it still more as the years roll on.
When the Paston Letters were written there was no national
postal system, but who would dream of returning to that old
free state ? In a few years we shall be equally reluctant to
return to the existing, wearisome, delaying, and expensive
system of telegraphy. If we hesitate to accept a Government
monopoly in manufacture, as we rightly should, even in ships
and fire-arms, much more in salt and tobacco ; why should wo
grow so timid and scrupulous in the matter of communication f
The State has had to give power to voluntary associations, or
they could never have existed at all, or worked to any good
ends ; and in assuming supreme control, the State would only
take up the ceded right, and relieve us of those conflicting
claims that make junctions little better than penitentiaries, of
those panics that affect our pockets, of those accidents that en-
danger our lives. If these and other obvious things could be
done by State management, both telegraphs and railways are
clearly cases wherein monopoly would be advantageous,
deprived of its usual objections, and neither detrimental to
trade at large, nor out of harmony with common social
interests and pursuits. The second, and the last point we have
to apply, does not need many words. Our Boards of Health are
doing and have done inestimable service. Fevers have been
driven from some localities altogether, and health has been in-
creased in all. Compulsory vaccination has told, as a visit to
any essentially agricultural district will show, when compared
with what used to meet us twenty years ago ; but there are
still many objections felt against it. The Contagious Diseases
Act has answered so well in our garrison towns, as we can testify
from our own observation in one of them, as well as the abundant
statistics extant on the question, that we surely cannot be
The Limits of State Action, 303
long before we shall overcome our reluctance to apply it in
every town with a population of over ten thousand inhabitants.
The argument that it makes vice less harmful^ and so in-
creases the very moral evil we are anxious to repress, can
best be met by the counter argument that, if the State enforces
celibacy on thousands of men, it is bound to see that the health
of the community does not suffer by it, and the only method
of preventing that ill-health is by applying the Act in question
to all towns where soldiers abound, permanently or casually,
or where there are naval stations. Indirectly, this touches
the civil towns, for the persons in question are migratory in
their habits, and continually prevent the fall effects of the Act
from being developed where it is in force. The more general
enforcement of the Act, in military towns and sea-ports,
would prevent this immigration, and hence the civil popula-
tions would suffer, as they do now in some measure. The
physical degeneracy, and consequently low moral type of
population where prostitution abounds, and there is no re-
striction upon it, physically or medically, is after all but a
poor equivalent for an unwillingness to indirectly recognise
a vicious tendency. Let us preach down the tendency by all
means, and in all ways, but let us also be careful of the
physical stamina of the future inhabitants of our country.
We shall be accused of having started with the idea that
civilisation should not be despotic, only to end by proving
how completely it ought to be so. Let us not be misunder-
stood. Society demands concessions of individual right, or
it could not exist, and individuals demand freedom for all
that is good and necessary to their development, or they
become things instead^ of persons. We have only tried to
harmonise the two. The laws of things are not the laws of
persons. Political economy cannot be governed by the State,
but human actions can, and what is wanted is free play and
free recognition for the double fact. As knowledge extends,
the bonds of the State dissolve ; its restraints become less
harsh, its will is nobler. The whole philosophy of our subject,
the lesson of all we have written, may be pressed into that
fine saying of Emerson^s : — ' To educate the wise man, the
State exists ; and with the appearance of the wise man, the
State expires.'
( 304 )
INCREASED PAUPERISM, AND ITS REMEDY.
1. Prize Essay on the Employment of Operatives a/nd Work-
men in Temporary Distress, By R. A, Arnold. London :
Social Science Association. 1868.
2. Industrial Employment of the Casual, Destitute, and Truant
Poor, By Thomas Webster, Q.C. London: Social
Science Association. 1868.
3. How to Deal with tlie Unemployed Poor of London, By the
Rev. H. Solly. London : Social Science Association.
1868.
4. Letters on East London Pauperism in ' Times/ ^Daily News/
and 'Standard.^ 1867-8.
5. Poor 'Rates and Pauperism, Pa/rliam^ntary Returns.
1867-8.
6. Twentieth Annual Report of the Poor-Law Board. 1867-8.
WHAT are we to do with our unemployed poor? For
years the question has been either evaded, or reck-
lessly ignored by many of those who profess to aspire to the
rank of statesmen ; but of late it has acquired such pressing^
importance^ that its thorough discussion in Parliament cannot
be much longer delayed. Whether any practical good will
arise from any such discussion, must depend entire^ on the
manner in which the subject shall be treated, and on the
amount of information and experience possessed by those who
shall take part in the matter. We are far from being too
sanguine. The general tenour of the papers on the subjeofe
read before the members of the Social Science AssociatioUj
and the various discussions arising therefrom, conclusively
show that, even amongst those who have given considerable
attention to the question, there exists a considerable amount
of misconception — arising either from imperfect knowledge,
prejudice, or adherence to some particular theory respecting
the actual cause of pauperism — the deficiency of employment
amongst the poor. Nearly all the speakers who took part in
the discussions alluded to, committed the grave error of
confounding effects with causes. To the committal of this
mistake are directly traceable the many fallacious condosions
Increased Pawperism^ and its Remedy. 305
arrived at by them, and the generally unsatisfactory nature of
the diflforeiit remedies proposed. Instead of staying the evil
at its source, they would dam it up at the flood, even at the
risk of the barriers suddenly giving way, and allowing the
destructive torrent to carry all before it.
The serious nature of the existing crisis is plainly evident
when we glance at the enormous amount of pauperism with
which we are at present burdened, and which forms a striking
and significant commentary on our boasted social and industrial
progress. Each successive year has beheld a steady increase
in the number of our pauper population, and there does not
appear the slightest prospect of any perceptible diminution in
the rate of increase. In January, 1860, the number of persons
relieved in 642 unions, in England and Wales, was 844,876.
In January, 1868, the number had risen to 1,040,103 ; being
an increase of 195,228 in eight years ; and this, too, with
thousands of ameliorative social agencies actively at work in
all parts of the United Kingdom. A volume of many hundred
pages would scarcely suffice to hold the names of all the
charitable associations, hospitals, dispensaries, philanthropic
societies, homes, penitentiaries, reformatories, industrial
schools, refuges, asylums, nurseries, relief funds, institutions,
charities, almshouses, orphan schools, and other portions of
the vast and costly machinery with the aid of which the
wealthier classes strive to assist their poorer brethren. Yet,
notwithstanding the millions annually expended in these
multifarious agencies, pauperism continues to advance with
rapid strides. The twentieth annual report of the Poor-Law
Board contains many painfully interesting details respecting
our increased pauperism. According to that authority, the
numbers of paupers (exclusive of lunatic paupers in asylums, and
vagrants) at the end of July, 1806, and the end of July, 1867,
respectively, were 836,486, and 877,020, showing an increase
on the former year of 40,534, or 4*8 per cent. That the rate
of increase has not since diminished is shown by the official
returns for August, 1868, according to which there were at
the end of July, 1868, 913,084 persons relieved, being an
increase of 36,064 over the number during the corresponding
period in 1867, and 76,598 over the number in 1866. This,
too, at a period wherein employment was generally plentiful ;
with a fine summer and an abundant harvest I Later returns
present an even more gloomy picture. The number of paupers
at the end of August, in the years 1866, 1867, and 1868,
respectively, were 840,388 ; 871,572; and 920,313; being an
increase of 79,925 in two years. As the estimated population
of England and Wales is only 19,886,104, it follows that
Vol. n.—No. 44. u
306 Increased Pauperismj and its Remedy.
nearly every twentieth person is a pauper. To aggravate the
difficulty^ a considerable percentage of our paupers are persons
afflicted with insanity. These number 41,276, of whom 80,905
are lunatics, and 10,371 are idiots. This class of paupers are
a source of constant trouble and heavy expense to the parochial
authorities, whose means of accommodation for such cases
are necessarily limited. More than half of the insane and
idiotic paupers are maintained in county or borough Innatio
asylums; 10,324 are kept in union or parish workhouses, and
the remainder are found in licensed houses, or lodgings, or
living under the care of their relatives.
The cost of pauperism keeps pace with its increase. During
the year ending Lady Day, 1866, no less than £6,439,515 was
expended for the relief of the poor, but during the same
period ending Lady Day, 1867, the amount had increased by
more than half a million sterling, being £6,959,841, or
£520,326 more than in 1866. The returns for 1868 are
expected to show a far larger increase. The progressive rate
of increase of expenditure is indicated by the subjoined
figures : —
£ £
1851 ... 4,962,704 1860 ... 5,454,964
1852 ... 4,897,685 1861 ... 5,778,948
1853 ... 4,939,064 1862 ... 6,077,525
1854 ... 5,282,853 1863 ... 6,527,036
1855 ... 5,890,041 1864 ... 6,423,383
1856 ... 6,004,244 1865 ... 6,264,961
1857 ... 5,898,756 1866 ... 6,439,515
1858 ... 5,878,542 1867 ... 6,959,841
1859 ... 5,558,689
Here it is evident that although the wave of pauperism may
occasionally appear to recede, it progresses steadily and
irresistibly onwards. Nor is the cost so largely increased by
the alleged high price of provisions as some would make it
appear. In 1856, when the average price of wheat per
quarter was 75s. 4d., the rate per head of amount expended
in relief to the poor on the estimated population was 6s. 8 Jd. ;
while in 1867, when the price of wheat had sunk to 533. 7id.,
the rate per head had increased to 6s. 6^d. Facts like these
speak for themselves.
The greatest increase of pauperism has taken place in the
metropolis, where there are at present over 130,000 persons
in receipt of parochial relief. The increase is not confined to
any one particular locality, or class of labourers, althon^ it
is most marked in Poplar, Bethnal Green, and other Saat
Increased Pauperism^ and its Remedy. 307
London parislies. Tlie real or alleged causes of tUs increase
of pauperism have been partially inquired into by the Poor-
Law Board, who ' think that it may be mainly attributed to
the general depression consequent upon the commercial crisis
of 1866, which had been preceded by much speculation and
overtrading/ The Poor-Law Board appear, however, to have
overlooked one most important fact, namely, that the causes,
whatever they might be, of the present increased pauperism
were in active operation previously to the great financial crisis
of 1866. As if conscious that the explanation preferred by
them was not wholly satisfactory, the Whitehall authorities,
proceed to offer a few others. According to them : —
'The cholera, which preyailed in the summer and autumn of 1866, added still
farther to the distress thus caused, carrying off in the East of London many of the
heads of families, whose wires and children were left almost entirely dependent
upon the poor-rates. This calamity was followed hy a winter of great sererity,
causing tne suspension of out-door employment, and an urgent pressure for
relief; and as in such a case an easy and abundant supply actually creates or
increases the demand, even the large sums which were so liberally subscribed hj
the public to relicTe the distress, and which in many instances, it is to be fearedi
were distributed without due discrimination, tended to aggravate the eyil. The
class of ordinary labourers, many of them already half pauperised, and others only
just removed aboye pauperism, soon leam the advantage of living in a district
where the alms of the benevolent flow in to eke out the legal provision from the
poor-rates. Lodgings in these districts are comparatively cheap ; upon that account
nambers flock thither in hard times, and stiU more when it is founa that charitable
contributions are systematically advertised for, and alms indiscriminately dis-
tributed. The provisions of the Sanitaiy Acts are not always duly enforced,
overcrowding follows, and thus disease and pauperism are generated. Another
cause of the increase of expenditure, which has not been confined to the metropolis,
but has affected the relief throughout the whole country, has been the com-
paratively high price of bread. In the year 1865-66 the average price of wheat was
43s. 6d. ; in the year 1866-67, 53s. 7i|d. It is evident that a high price of
provisions not only adds to the cost of maintenance of the existing paupers, but
nrings additional claimants upon the poor-rates. In the metropolis also the
crowded state and condition of the workhouses, which has precluded the
application of the workhouse test to the able-bodied, and the difficulty of pro-
Tioing out-door labour on a large scale, have alike tended to increase the numbers
of the able-bodied class applying for relief.'
Here, again, the Poor-Law Board have more than once laid
themselves open to the charge of inaccuracy. K the cost of
pauperism is partly regulated by the price of wheat, it ought
to have been far higher in 1856, when this was 75s. 4d., than
in 1867, when it was only 53s. 7id. The reasoning of the
Poor-Law Board is, on this point at least, somewhat defective.
The preceding facts naturally lead us to inquire what means
should be adopted for staying the further progress of
pauperism ? The first impulse of the wealthy is to forward
the means of relief, both in money and kind, to the destitute
poor ; but this, while betokening the existence of a kindly
disposition, speaks ill for the wisdom of the donors. It is
808 Increased Pauperism^ and its Remedy.
admitted on all sides that the wholesale system of charitable
relief^ so long prevalent in East London^ has had the effect of
largely increasing the amount of destitution prevalent in that
part of the metropolis. The Rev. Septimus Hansard^ M.A.^
Rector of Bethnal Green, says : —
* The easj way in which charity has been ffiven without saperrision has done
most incalculable mischief to us. People Iook for it as natarallj as possible. I
hare known men who earn in the summer 30s. a week regularly, ana thej neyer
lay bj any money. They state deliberately that it is because they know that in
the winter there will be this cry of distress at the Etat End, and they will get
charity.*
Mr. Thomas Webster, Q.C., commenting on the great
number of relief organisations in East London, observes : —
* That societies should so work as to be a confusion to one another in ihe same
locality is greatly to be regretted, but this fact may in itself be tidcen as a proof
that so serious a matter as the present wide-spread distress cannot adequately be
met by partial philanthropic efforts. Indeed, their discordant organisation is in
too many cases proved to be a stimulus to imposition, and to keep back the flood
of public charity from those who are the most descrying.'
The Rev. H. Solly states that :—
* The total sum raieed for charitable purposes of all sorts and kinds in the
metropolis is estimated at nearly ;£2,000,000, of which at least ^(1,200,000 may be
considered as raised for the benefit of the poorer classes, and of course considerably
relieving the suffering that abounds amons them. But it is the ragged schools,
reformatories, refuges, industrial schools and homes which alone can^ said to be
really doing much among all our charitable institutions to prevent and eradicate
the enormous social mischiefs which are now the disgrace and dangw of our
boasted civilisation, and even these are not stopping the evil at its sooroe.*
The present system of Poor-Law administration having
admittedly failed to check the progress of pauperism, and the
extension of charitable assistance being found to encourage^
rather than to prevent the evil, it becomes doubly important that
some attempt should be made for the purpose of ascertaining
the best and most effectual means of removing this great
stumblingblock from the path of our social and industrial
progress. The subject has more than once engaged the
attention of the Social Science Association, but the result has
been more to show the utter confusion of ideas existing in con-
nection with the question, than to evolve any really sensible or
practical suggestions. One of the first papers read on the
subject in 18G8, was by Mr. Thomas Webster, who, alluding
to the continued increase of pauperism, observed ; —
'Neither law nor public charity appears able to cope with this severe diitraes
which is pauperising whole districts, and every mommg brings its fresh tales of
woe, illustrative of the shortcomings of voluntary efforts and the weakness of the
p.*esent legal remedies. There is also a deal of clashing, confusion, and mism^n-
ugement among the various schemes of relief, which brings odium upon the cause
of public charity, and opens a door fur the imposition of the least deserving, while
Increased Pauperism, and its Remedy, 309^
the average relief after all only just keeps these vast numbers of our fellow-beings
above starvation point, and leaves behind it no labour or work done which is worth
mentioning, after an expenditure of thousands. Moreover, as the distress is to a
great extent localised, the legal means for its relief fall most heavilj upon certain
oistricts, and the Bethnal Green guardians report that thev are beset on the one
band by an " ever-growing pauperism/' and on the other by a yearly increasing
inadequacy with respect to the funds which the ratepavers are able to supply.
This at once would appear to throw the responsibility baclE upon the GK>vemment
of supplementing the inefficient system of Poor-Law provision by some strong and
well-considered plan of remedy.'
Mr. Webster insists that increased pauperism signifies
increased crime, that it is but a slight transition from the
pauper to the thief : —
* How many of the really industrious and well-intentioned classes of society are
driven by distress into dishonest courses under those fearful circumstances with
which they at present have to contend ? We cannot expect men to be more than
human, or excluded from the temptations of our common nature, who are to a
certain extent perfectly uneducated and find themselves suddenlv confronted by
hopeless ruin and innumerable temptations. There can, indeed, be no doubt that
from the out-of-work paupers, industrious so long as they could earn a living by
industry, the ranks of crime are very liberally recruited. To allow them to be
exposed to these seductions on the one hand, or on the other to emasculate their
industrial energy by forcing them as the condition of a subsistence which will
scarcely keep body and soul together to perform some ridiculous task of nearly
useless labour is, it appears to me, derogatory to the administrative capacity of a
great and Christian nation. We are not only unnecessarily degrading and reducing
to a condition of chronic pauperisation whole masses of the people, but we are
largely feeding that most costly element in our national expenditure, crime.'
The heavy burden thus entaHed upon us, is presented by
Mr. Webster in the following painfully significant picture :—
* The criminal statistics of the year 1866 reveal the startling fact that the cost of
crime in this country is at least between seven and eight millions a year. Of the
criminal classes at large there are known to be no less than 113,566. Our police
force costs £1,827,000; our Treasury prosecutions .£16,000; our county and
borough gaols ;£614,000; and our convict prisons at home and abroad some
X400,000 more. Supposing our criminal classes at large to abstract from the
earnings of the honest and industrious classes an average of ;£40 per annum, which
18 not at all an excessive estimate, we have X4, 500,000 more with which to debit
crime, besides a large proportion of the expenses of our Home Office and judicial
eetablishments.'
Mr. Webster's remedy for this state of things is identical
with that advocated by the Howard Association, which,
according to Mr. Tallack, has been formed with the object of
procuring employment for the poor on public works, and for
obtaining loans of money from Government for that purpose.
The Rev. Henry Solly, some few weeks afterwards, read
a Paper on the same subject ; but, although his plan reads
well on paper, it would be found ineffectual in practice. Like
Mr. Webster, he overlooks the causes of pauperism, and
confines himself to dealing with their effects. He recom-
mends five methods — all to be worked in common — ^for re-
ducing the esisting mass of pauperism. These aro; employ-
^10 Increased Pauperism, and its Remedy.
ments, amusements, education, supervision, and social
organisation. Tlie first could be found in the cleansing of
streets, and the reclamation of waste lands by the utilisation
of the sewage of towns. Amusements would be provided by
means of concert-rooms or club-houses, to supersede the
attractions of the public-house. The poorer classes he con-
<siders to be greatly in need of help of this kind : —
* For want of innocent and beneficial recreation, thej are continually soffering
from grierous temptations of yarious kinda, and thej giro way to Tice or crime
merely because thej hare no refuge from weariness, vacancj, or the craTings of
their lower nature, no gratification for the right and healthy desire of companion-
ship and recreation, except in the public-house, the dancing or music saloon, the
street comer, or in dens of infamy/
Education, he further remarked, should be used in the
most extended sense of the word, and be considered as
involving moral and scientific, as well as mental culture, all of
which, ho thought, could be afibrded by institutions, planted
in the midst of the poor, ' which should partake of the nature
both of working-men's clubs and mechanics' institutes.'
Supervision, according to Mr. Solly, would involve an adoption
of the system employed by King Alfred, whereby one man in
every ton or twenty would be made responsible to some extent
for the acts of the others. ' We must see,' he observes,
« If w<» cannot once again get a system of " Fngnk-pledffe,** by which men, liying
at prewni in a disorganised cor.dition. may be brought under wholesome super-
TiMon by boini; made answerable for each other's condoct, with one man in erery
U^n or twenty mor« retponsible than the rest^ and exercising some sort of authority
OTTpr thorn.'
Undor$ocialorganisationheincludesacombined,andoertainl7
iwo:>t oonipHoatoii, system of friendly societies, religious associ-
ntions, working-men's clubs, and similar organisations. There
18 no oooAi^ion," however, to go into this portion of Mr. Solly's
tiohomo. Anyone who is in the least acquainted with the
AOtunl working of hu>»o organisations, has but to glance over
tho \lolAils furnished bv Mr. Solly, to perceive at once their
uttor iwprtiotioability. Indeed, the whole of his project, kindly
i«lon:iomHl «w it undoubtedly is, displays an amount of
KvN^iK^tiou and timidity which contrasts forcibly with the
owonwou.< w^'i^nitudo of the evil it is proposed to remedy.
A* Mr. >YoWtor*s» so Mr. R. A. Arnold's great panacea for
ivftxijvnswt i* omploymont. Ho does not pretend to trace the
\'^usM>* ^hv oiupU\vineut is not forthcoming. It is suflScidnt
for k5«» '^5*< ^w this ivuntry there are thousands of people
awni. Kitui owpUyment for them, and they will
I |i« Miiivnu This is the whole of Mr. Aniold's
MtL ikt$pilc of the attractive manner in which he
Increased Pawperismj cmd its Remedy. 311
lias propounded his views, it betrays but too clearly bis lack
of real experience and judgment in dealing witb such
matters. He admits the diflSculties which have to be con-
tended with, on the part of the State, or of local authoritieSj
in attempting to provide the required employment, and ho
ofiTers several sensible remarks thereon, especially with respect
to productive industry, which he says cannot be undertcJcen
by the guardians of the poor without effecting much harm.
' If they engage the distressed work-people in the particular
trade to which they were accustomed, then Stock woul^
further diminish the value of those, the too great accumulation
of which had been the cause of distress/ Mr. Arnold is not
to be gainsaid in this portion of his argument. It certainly
is a great mistake, and one which has often been perpetrated,
whenever some particular trade or calling happens to become
depressed and no market can be found for the articles
produced therein, to continue the work of production merely
for the sake of affording employment to the destitute
operatives. With rare exceptions, such a policy seldom fail^
to produce results of a character directly opposite to those
recJly desired. Suppose, for instance, that the staple manu-
fecture of a given district is hat-making, and that of the
hundred operatives usually employed, only fifty can procure
work. In the absence of a legitimate demand for hats, or the
prospect of such a result at no distant period, any attempt to
furnish the fifty unemployed operatives with work in the
shape of hat-making, would but hasten the moment when the
whole body would find themselves deprived of employment.
As a rule, the rate of production must adapt itself to the state
of demand, and any infraction of this rule will inevitably
occasion the disastrous results arising from a violation of the
laws of economic science. So well known is this to those who
have devoted themselves to the temporary or permanent
relief of the poor, that, as a rule, they seldom seek to provide
employment for them in their respective trades, unless there
exists a probability that such trades may prove remunerative
to the workers. And here it may be remarked in passing,
that one reason why we hear so little of artisan distress in
such towns as Birmingham, is because of the facility with
which the workmen can pass from one trade into another. To
the same fact, perhaps, may be attributed the comparative
absence of strikes. The Spitalfields silkweavers, unable or
unwilling to leave their trade, although barely remunerative
and subject to serious fluctuations, have always remained in a
greater or lesser state of destitution. Indeed, the general
condition of the London silkweavers is one oi cV^ot^l^
312 Increased Pauperism, and its Remedy.
pauperism. The obvious remedy consists in a diminution of
the number of weavers ; this, however, the weavers practically
will not admit, seeing that they are continually training their
offspring to the same trade as themselves, although fully
aware that in so doing they are dooming them to a life of
semi-pauperism. Were the facility with which large numbers
of the Birmingham artisans are enabled to transfer themselves
from one branch of employment to another, shared by the
freat body of workers in the kingdom, the supply of different
inds of labour would become more equalised, and the great
mass of skilled workmen less liable to be deprived of the
means of employment. The very means by which some trades'
unions endeavour to protect their trades by placing a restraint
on the free action of the workmen, is one of the leading causes
of this want of versatility on the part of our labourers in
general.
There is the instinctive desire,in all well ordered communities,
to employ the destitute poor in the construction of works of
public utility, or in labours intended for the public benefit, and
in which the labour shall not be degrading nor beyond the
power of those to whom it is afforded. The vital defect of the
workhouse labour test-system is its frequently useless and
degrading character. Stone-breaking, for instance, is an art
which requires a certain amount of experience and skill rather
than strength, and the hardened and incorrigible tramp,
versed in the mysteries of the stone-yard, has no difficulty in
rattling through his appointed task, while the poor, but
inexperienced mechanic, whose only crime consists in his
poverty, vainly strives, with fingers blistered and bleeding,
with limbs weary and aching, to perform the same amount of
work. Still more objectionable is the digging and re-filling of
large pits. Stone-breaking possesses at least one recommen-
dation, the labour is one of utility ; but when, as in the case
of pit-digging, the usefulness of the labour is not apparent,
it exercises a degrading influence on those engaged in it.
The parochial authorities are not altogether to blame for this,
as they seldom possess any alternatives beyond stone-
breaking, oakum-picking, and pit-digging. But were it
otherwise, they would find it difficult, especially in the present
chaotic condition of parochial management, to devise more
suitable and less degrading labour tests without interfering
with some branch of industry affording employment to large
numbers of operatives. Whatever kinds of employment be
resorted to, they must not in any way clash with the
ordinary relations of labour and capital. For instance, were
the destitute poor to be employed in making shoes, when the
Increased Pauperism, and its Remedy, 31S
«
shoe-trade is in a state of depression, it would tend merely to
aggravate the existing amount of destitution. The cheap
labour of inmates of prisons in mat and basket-making has
deprived large numbers of the industrious and deserving
blind of the means of obtaining a livelihood.
If, then, employment is to be provided for the poor, it must
be of such a nature as not to interfere with other existing
employments. Mr. Arnold therefore recommends the adoption
of a system based on the Public Works Act, introduced into
Lancashire during the period of the cotton famine. Hi»
proposal is that an Act of Parliament should be passed,
empowering the Treasury to lend money for the construction of
Sublic works to the parochial or corporate authorities of any
istrict where a large number of labourers are suflfering from
temporary distress. He suggests that, for the repayment of
such loans, an annual payment of five per cent, shall be
required, which at the end of thirty years would cancel both
principal and interest. Furthermore, he would entrust the
management of the works to the local authorities, although
the central Government must, in the first instance, be consulted:
and for the more efiectual working out of his plan he suggests
the establishment of what many other Governments already
possess, namely, a special department of public works presided
over by a minister directly responsible to Parliament : in
default of this, 'the advances for the purposes of the Act
should be made by the Public Works Loan Commissioners
upon orders bearing the seal of the Poor-Law Board, and the
signature of the president of that board for the time being.*
It is highly problematical whether Mr. Amold^s suggestions
will ever be carried into efiect. We must bear in mind the
enormous increase of local taxation, to say nothing of the
large sums required, under the orders of the Poor-Law Board,
for the enlargement of existing workhouses, the erection of
others, and the estabhshment of district schools, asylums, and
infirmaries on a large and costly scale. Moreover, the amount
of benefit derived from the Lancashire Public Works Act has
been greatly overstated. According to Mr. Sawlinson, in
Lancashire, —
' There were said to be 40,000 able-bodied men out of employment, bat there
were never more than 6,000 on ^e public works there. Bona fide work for wages
was, in all cases, tendered, and he was not aware of a single instance in which anj
man or body of men complained that they could not get work, but although they
had 6,000 at work, and four or five times that number who were not, some would
not stop a week, some would not stop a fortnight, and they found therefore it was
only the best men, those who really wished to put themseWee into an honest
position who would undergo the ordeal of seasoning themselves to labour to
whieh they were unaocuitomed.'
814r Increased Pauperism^ and its Remedy.
If mere employment afforded a remedy for paaperism^ wo
should not hear of paupers in Canada^ or Australia^ where the
demand for labour exceeds the supply. But supposing that
the requisite employment were found, the customary rate of
wages would have to be given, any attempt at offering less
being instantly resented by the labourers, as in the case of
the destitute Poplar artisans when offered employment at a
lower rate in shipbuilding. And if the full rate of wages be
given, the effect would be to attract labourers from less
remunerative employment, so that in the end the state of
affairs would be exactly the same as at first.
Instead of endeavouring to provide work for the unemployed^
the object of all desirous of preventing the spread of pauperism,
should be to ascertain, as far as possible, the causes whioh
tend to diminish the means of employment. It needs but the
slightest knowledge of the fundamental principles of political
economy to perceive that the increasing want of employment
is the result of deficient or mis-expended capital. Mr. John
Stuart Mill states that ' while, on, the one hand, industry is
limited by capital, so on the other, every increase of capital
gives, or is capable of giving, additional employment to
industry: and this without assignable limits.' But for the
enormous waste of capital somewhere, there would exist in
this country ample means of employment for all able to work.
How this waste is occasioned is obvious to all. It is
occasioned by the universal passion for alcoholic liquors, the
gratification of an acquired appetite at any cost, even of
pauperism, sickness, or premature death. Were the many
millions of pounds sterling annually expended by the English
people in the purchase of beer, wine, and spirits, devoted to
the purchase of furniture, clothing, and necessary articles of
food, employment would be found in a constantly increasing
ratio for all who needed it. Intemperance and pauperism are
synonymous, yet neither the Poor-Law Board, in their official
report, nor the members of the Social Science Association in
their discussions, have ventured to treat the matter from this
point of view. The Rev. H. Solly, indeed, is the only member
of the Social Science Association who has had the courage to
allude to the importance of the Temperance question in con-
nection with this subject, and even he mentions it only
incidentally. He says, speaking of the metropolis :—
* There are, taking the whole police district (which includes fifteen miles from
Charing-cross, as the returns do not give the numher in the metropolis alone),
6,549 puhlic-houses and gin-palaces, and 4,421 beershops, making a total of 10»970
house?, which, if placed eide by side, would extend for a distance of about thirtj-
three miles ! There are also music and singing hallsi with dancing saloonf
without number.'
Increased Pauperism^ and its Remedy, 315
The amonnt annually spent in these public-houses is, accord-
ing to the lowest computation, £3,000,000 sterling. One-
third of this would suflSce to provide work for all the
unemployed metropolitan poor. The true cause of our
increasing pauperism is the enormous development of our
drink-traffic, the very existence of which is in contravention
of the soundest rules of political economy. The capital formed
by the nation is continually being reduced and deprived of its
proper productive powers, merely that a limited class of non-
producers — people of no earthly use whatever to their
country — may live in comfort, if not affluence. Of all the
methods of rendering capital utterly unproductive, its ex-
penditure in the purchase of beer and gin, for personal
consumption, is the most effectual and speedy. The amount
annually paid for wages in this country has been variously
estimated, the lowest computation being £200,000,000. Of
this sum, at least £60,000,000 is believed to be annually
expended in intoxicating drinks. Have we not here the
secret of our increasing pauperism ? Does it not tell us how
futile is the idea of checking pauperism by finding work for
the unemployed, unless we at the same time check the popular
craving for beer and gin ? Did any doubt exist in the matter
it could speedily be removed by a reference to the experience
of workhouse officials, who are singularly unanimous in
declaring intemperance to have been the predisposing cause
of pauperism, in the majority of cases which have come under
* their care.
Again, take the 41,276 pauper lunatics and idiots now
being supported at the cost of the ratepayers. It is an
acknowledged fact that many of these are either the offspring
of intemperate parents, or have themselves been guilty of
intemperate habits. Indeed, the more the matter is inquired
into, the more apparent becomes the connection between our
drinking habits and the development of pauperism. But our
philanthropists will not perceive this. They wilfully shut
their eyes, and then declare that they cannot see. It is not
pauper colonies, public works acts, or working men^s clubs
that we most want. Even as mere palliatives these would prove
useless. Nothing less than a change in our drinking habits
and the greater restriction of the drink traffic will meet the
emergency. It may be unfashionable to be a teetotaler, to
denounce the public-house system may be considered by
many as bordering on fanaticism, but until the principles of
temperance are more generally acknowledged and practised,
the Poor-Law Board may issue its reports. Social Science
theorists gravely discuss each other^s hobbies, and the natioii.
316 Almanacks — Old and New.
angrily complain" that nothing is being done^ without in the
least staying the onward and desolating march of English
pauperism.
ALMANACKS— OLD AND NEW.
TO the inquiry — ^when and where was the Almanack first
devised ? — no satisfactory answer can be returned. The
thing so called was certainly older than the name, and the
name itself, whatever its derivation, marks an antiquity higher
than that of any existing European sovereignty, great or small.
Whether we find its etymological origin in the Arabic al, ' the,*
and the Hebrew manah and manakh, ' to number or count / or
in the Arabic al and Greek meenee, ' moon,' or mean, ' month/
or in the old German al-mon-aght, 'the observations of all
moons,' corresponding to the Anglo-Saxon aUmon-heed ; or
whether we regard it as slightly modified from an Arabic
compound signifying ' the Diary ;' we are, in any case, directed
to the primitive meaning of the invention, and are impressed
with the probability of its connection, under other names^
with the earliest civilisation of our race.
Supposing a state of society with periodical festivals, secular
or religious, based (as they must have been) on a knowledge,
however rudimentary, of the heavenly bodies; and further
supposing the use of written signs and symbols, suppositions
which apply to the oldest forms of civic life on the banks of
the Tigris, the Ganges, the Yang-tze-Kiang, and the Nile—
we can scarcely imagine the absence of some recognised
register answering to our conception of the almanack in its
simplest and roughest state. As to Egypt, indeed, the Abb6
Pulche hastily conjectured that the grotesque figures found
on the ancient monuments formed a sort of illustrated calendar
of the rise and fall of the Nile, and were thus substantially akin
to the much later ornamented wooden almanacks of the semi-
savage Northmen. But the Egyptian calendar (Wilkinson's
'Ancient Egyptians,' vol. iv., p. 14) appears to have been
agricultural, the year being divided into three seasons of ' the
water plants,' ' the ploughing,' and ' the waters.' The Romans,.
we know, had their calendar with its fasti dies, ' marked days/
and as this calendar had ceased, four centuries before Christ,
to be a vocal declaration by the Pontifex Maximus of the
coming monthly festivals, we may presume that the written
calendar posted up in the Forum under his directions would
be copied for private use, and thus pass into extensive circa-
Almaudcks — Old and New. 317
laidon. Among the disinterred antiquities of Pompeii is a
square block of marble, upon each side of which a three
months^ calendar is engraved, with the signs of the zodiac
proper to the season, the information given being astronomical,
agricultural, and religious. The Alexandrian Greeks, of the
second and third centuries of the Christian era, are said to
have been adepts in the compilation of almanacks furnished with
astrologic lore ; and when the spread of Christianity began to
call for a calendar in which the names of saints and martyrs
should supersede the names of the heathen gods, major and
minor, the ' aching void' (if voids can ache) would be speedily
supplied. Inasmuch, also, as a belief in days, lucky and
unlucky, was one of the popular superstitions not easily rooted
out, other influences besides those of devotion would join
to stimulate the manufacture of an article in such general
request. Casting a glance towards the Scandinavian tribes,
we likewise see that both prior and subsequent to their
conversion to Christianity, Norwegians, Swedes, and Danes
were possessed of calendars cut in wood, in horn, and in
metal. The runic lines and grotesque hieroglyphic shapes
thus carved-in became treasured, doubtless, as a species of
talisman and charm, without which neither weapon, nor tool,
nor household vessel could be considered perfect. Walking-
sticks, as being easily carried about, were similarly utilised
and adorned ; and so an almanack, uncouth as the people and
the times, was indefinitely multiplied ready to every hand.
Where the craftsman was a Christian, saints^ days were
frequently denoted by significant signs, as a harp for St.
David's, a gridiron for St. Lawrence's, and a pair of shoes for
St. Crispin's. The Anglo-Saxons borrowed this fashion from
their neighbours and rivals ; and a specimen of the ' clog
almanack,' once widely difiused, has been engraved and
described by Dr. Plott, imder the title of the 'Perpetual
Stafibrdshire Almanack.'
If we are really indebted to the Arabs for the name, we
may reasonably conclude that in the hterary blossoming which
distinguished the Moorish dominion in Spain, the almanack
had a conspicuous place. No specimen, however, of such a
production seems to have survived to bring before our eyes
the curious mixture of true and false science — of astronomy
and astrology — which Saracen philosophers prepared for the
entertainment of their Saracen patrons. No almanack-maker
earlier than Solomon Jarchus, in the twelfth century, is
known by name, and his identification is obscure and doubtful.
The earliest almanack MSS. in the British Museum and the
National Libraries of other countries do not date beyond the
318 Alma/nacks — Old and New.
fourteentli century, though the authorship of one is ascribed to
Friar Bacon. The father of the modem almanack, using the
term in the most restricted sense as a diary specifying the
position of the planets, was the celebrated astronomer
Purbach, whose calendars extend from 1450 to 1461. His
pupil, Begiomantanus, took advantage of the printing-press to
give publicity to his own essays in this scientific line, from
1475 to 1506 ; and without crediting the legend which makes
each copy of his almanacks to have sold for ten crowns of
gold, we have no doubt that he was well remunerated for his
trouble both by the buyers of his tracts, and by the King of
Hungary, Mathias Corvinus, in whom he found a generous
supporter. Rivals in this enterprise appeared in Bernard de
Granolachs, of Barcelona, and Engel, of Vienna ; and as the
sixteenth century opened out, first Stoffler, of Tubingen (1526),
and then Rabelais, at Lyons (1533), made similar appeals to
the curiosity and growing intelligence of Europe. Curiosity,
perhaps, rather than intelligence had most to do with the
unquestionable demand which prevailed for printed almanacks.
Astrology had, to say the least, as strong hold on the popular
faith as the Gospels, and the almanack became at this period a
special vehicle for the diflFusion of prescriptions and predic-
tions based on the supposed influence of the heavenly bodies,
through the fame and prophecies of Nostrodamus. This
eminent physician and friend of J. C. Scaliger was one of the
scientific and philanthropic lights of the sixteenth century; but
he was most widely known by his vaticinations, expressed in
enigmatic terms, but none the less valued on that account,
and circulated by him in the almanacks he published. The
pretensions of this extraordinary man have been voluminously
canvassed, and it is undeniable that some events, remote from
his own day, appear to have been anticipated in his oracular
verses ; but the more immediate efiects of his prophesying
were pernicious and alarming, for every man who pretended
to be an astrologer, and who was at best nothing more, could
Srophesy as confidently as Nostrodamus. The agitation pro-
uced by these communings with futurity led, in Prance, to an
edict of Henry III., passed in 1579, prohibiting the prophetic
element in the almanacks of the day ; and if the bishops, who
were the licensers of all such publications issued in their
respective dioceses, carried out the royal interdict, we may
confidently conclude that almanacks experienced a sudden
and heavy fall in public valuation and demand.
Manuscript calendars were in use in England before Caxton
set up his printing-press in the sanctuary at Westminster ; *
bat these were principally of a religious character, and few of
Almcmaeks — Old and New. 319
them have escaped the ravages of time. In 1812 a work was
printed at Hackney, purporting to be a verbatim transcript,
with some omissions, of a manuscript almanack of 1386, and
the original was announced to be at the printer's for inspec-
tion and sale. No antiquarian has been known to have
examined this MS., but, if genuine, its age, to judge from the-
orthography, appears to have been exaggerated by the modem
transcriber. A very early printed almanack, one of Wynkyn
de Worde's (and older by nineteen years than his octo-decimo
folded almanack deposited in the Pepyseian Library, Cam-
bridge), was accidentally found in an antique oak cabinet, and
presented by a gentleman of Lincoln's Inn to the Bodleian
Library, Oiidbrd. Its dimensions are two and a half inches
by two inches, and the number of leaves is fifteen. The
only title is, 'Almanackye for VI. Yere' [1506], and on
the reverse of this leaf are the words — ' Lately corrected
and emprynted at London, in Flete-strete, by Wynkyn de
Worde. In the yere of the reygne of the most redoubted
Sovereigne Lorde Kinge Henry the VII.' Earlier, however,
than this curiosity was the ' Sheapeheard's Kalendar,' trans-
lated from the French, of which the first edition was printed
by Eichard Pynson in 1497. The next century (1500-1600)
was prolific in these annual visitors, some of which, for reasons
not positively known, were printed in the Netherlands. One
of them is a large single sheet, printed at ' Antwerpe,^ for the
year 1530, the work of ' Gaspar Leat the younger.' It is
described as an ^ Almynack and Prognosticatio,' and begins
in this fashion — 'The declaratio of this Almynack. The
Golden Number xi. Inditio iii. The cicle of the Sunne
xxvii. The Sunday Letter B.' Medical prescriptions mixed
up with astrological quackery were a prominent element in
these productions. A single folio sheet in red and black ink
appeared as 'An Almanack and Prognostication for the yeare of
our Lord MD. & XLVIII. by M. Alphonsus Laet, brother of
M. Jasper Laet,Doctor of Physycke and Astronomy. Imprinted
at London by Richard Jugge, dwelling at the North Door of
Paul's.' In this almanack certain signs are used to designate
the ' chosen dayes' when it is ' good to let blood — meetely to
let blood. Good to take medicine — meetely to take medicine.
Good to bathe. Good to sowe or plante.' Jngge was an
eminent printer of Bibles, and would consider himself kept in
countenance by the calendars prefixed to the lawyers' guides,
the abridgments of the chronicles, and the translations of the
Bible then issuing from the press. In one of these old Bibles
the classification of facts is curious. The January calendar
runs :— ' 1. Noah began to see the tops of the mountains.
820 Almanacks — Old and New,
6. Jesus was baptised. 9. Noah sent the dove oat of the
ark. 22. The Duke of Somerset beheaded. 27. Paul ^fas
converted.' Coverdale put out an almanack to help on the
Reformation, and to the same period is referred ' A Spirituall
Almanacke, wherein every Christie man and womi may se
what they ought daylye to do or leave undone. Not after
the doctrine of the Papistes, not after the lemyn^e of
Ptolemy, but out of the very true and wholesome doctryne
of God, shewed vnto vs in his Worde,'
The custom seems to have grown up about this time of
printing almanacks in some country town, with the view of
getting a circulation in the districts around. One dated 1541,
' practised' by two ^Doctors of Physike and Astronomye,' was
pubHshed at Worcester. The example was contagious and
chronic ; and in 1590, ' Walter Gray, gentleman,' published
his ^ Almanacke and Prognostication,' rectified for the me-
ridian of Dorchester, ^ serving most aptly for the West Partes
and generally for al England.' Each month's predictions
in this almanack were preceded by a few rhymes, describing
some characteristics or products of the season. In the plays
of Shakespere this species of popular literature receives four
allusions, which throw light on its leading features and wide
diflfusion. In ' A Midsummer Night's Dream' (Act iii.,
scene 1), Smug asks, ^ Doth the moon shine that night we
play our play ?' And Bottom answers, ' A calendar, a calen-
dar ! Look in the almanacks ; find out moonshine, find out
moonshine.' In the ^ Comedy of Errors' (Act i., scene 2),
Antipholus exclaims, on the entrance of Dromio of Ephesus,
^ Here comes the almanack of my true date.' In the ' Second
part of King Henry IV.' (Act ii., scene 4), Prince Henry
calls out, ^ Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction ! what
says the almanack to that V Poins adds, ' And look whether
the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old
tables ; his note-book, his counsel-keeper.' And in ^ Antony
and Cleopatra' (Act i., scene 2), ^Her passions are made of
nothing but the finest part of pure love ; we cannot call her
winds and waters, sighs and tears ; they are greater storms
and tempests than almanacks can report ' — a plain allusion to
the terrible prognostications by which the almanack-makers
of the period roused the fears, while they appealed to the
curiosity, of their credulous readers. Yet there were not
wanting men able and ready to satirise the tribe of wiseacres
and their dupes ; and Thomas Decker is credited with the
authorship of a parody, published under this title, ^ The
Eauens [Raven's] Almanacke, Foretelling ye Plague, Famine,
and CiviU Warre. That shall happen this present yeare 1609.
Almanacks — Old and New, 321
Witli certain remedies, rules, and receipts, &c. London:
Printed by B. A., for W. Archer, 1609/ This almanack
was ironically dedicated ' To the Lyons of the Wood (the
young courtiers) — to the wilde Buckes of the Forrest (the
gallants and younger brothers) — to the Hartes of the field,
and to the whole Country that were brought up wisely, yet
proring Guls, who are borne rich, yet dye beggars/ Edward
Pond commenced to publish an almanack in 1605, and under
that name one was brought out annually for a long succession
of years. The names of sixty-two almanack-writers who
flourished between 1600-1700 have been preserved, and the
actual number was probably greater. The first Oxford
almanack was issued for the year 1683, and was ornamented
with hieroglyphics, the editor or author being Maurice Wheeler,
minor canon of Christ Church. James I., who trafficked
largely in patents, gave to the two Universities and the
Stationers' Company the sole right of issuing almanacks in
England, under the supervision of the Archbishop of Canter-
bury and the Bishop of London, both or either, for the time
being. The Universities sold to the Stationers' Company
their interest in this monopoly for an annuity, and the
Stationers' Company, from their hall off Ludgate Hill, con-
tinued to pour forth, without rivalry, for a century and a half,
streams of mystical nonsense and indecent jesting, mingled
with very moderate proportions of useful information. Lilly,
the astrologer, was a confidant of the unhappy Charles I., to
whom he might have given homely counsel that would have
been of more service to him than reams of astrologic symbols ;
but Lilly survived the King and the Commonwealth, and
died full of years, if not of honours, on an estate purchased
with the gains of his art, on the banks of the Thames. But
Lilly had a pupU, who developed into a rival almanacker, in
John Gadbury, and Gadbury found a competitor in the still
better-known John Partridge. In the last half of this century
also appeared ^Poor Robin's Almanack,' one of the most
popular and longest-lived of the race, whose list of anonymous
editors is said to have contained a clergyman of the English
Church. Ere the close of the seventeenth century ^ Francis
Moore, physician,' had started his almanack (1698), and in the
present year of grace the old ' philomath ' (a favourite cognomen
with the almanack compilers) makes, by deputy, his bow on the
British stage. 'Poor Robin' seems to have arrived at popu-
larity by a travesty on the style in vogue among the pseudo
science-mongers of that day. His humour is of a kind
which has been revived of late, consisting chiefly in uttering
commonplaces in a grave and serious style. Artemus Ward
Vol. 11.— JVb. 44. V
322 Almanacks — Old and New.
drew bursts of laughter from fashionable assemblies when he
pointed with a stick to a picture of hill scenery, and said with
a solemn, elongated visage, ' That is the top of a mountain f
and so Poor Robin aimed, no doubt, to excite the risibility of
his readers by making this entry under the month of June,
1G71 : 'I can assure ye, upon the word of an astrologer, that
we shall have no hard frosts all this month/ And more slily
under July, ^Many people now shall be troubled with the
Devonshire man's disease ; they can eat and drink, Ac,
woundily, but they cannot work. But for such a sickness, a
cartwhip is the best physic/ ' Poor Robin ' could cry up
strong drink very lustily, but in his 'predictions' he has some
fair temperance salUes, e.g., 'More shall go sober into taverns
than shall come out. The falling sickness will be common
with drunkards.' Against Poor Robin, however, must be
laid the charge of pandering to a coarseness against which
ordinary morality, to say nothing of religion, indignantly
protested.
Sectarian bitterness is intensely shown in the almanacks
after the Restoration (1660), and a special almanack, entitled
' A Yea and Nay Almanack for the people, called by the men
of the world Quakers,' was a libel of the most malignant
type. The influence of the almanack on the fair sex of the
Stuart times was not agreeable, if Dryden is to be believed :
* Beware tbe woman, too, and shun her sights
Who in that stadj does herself delight.
By whom a greasy almanack is borne,
With often handling, like chapt-amber wome.'
We must now briefly advert to that most amusing episode
in almanack notabilia connected with Dean Swift's attack on
John Partridge — by no means the worst representative of his
class. Partridge had been a shoemaker, but had found
astrology a shorter cut to notoriety and lucre. His ' Merlin
Liberatus' had been published for upwards of forty years,
when he became the object of attentions more caustic
than complimentary from the keenest humorist of the
age. Having laid his plan of assault, Dean Swift
published ' Predictions for the year 1708,' under the name of
'Isaac Bickerstaff*, Esq.' This pamphlet opened with a
feigned eulogy on astrology, but a depreciation of astrologers,
especially the framers of almanacks, and more especially Mr.
John Partridge, the Ajax of the throng. After caustically
exposing the devices resorted to by the current prognosti-
cators to conceal their ignorance, ^ Isaac BickerstaflF, Esq.,'
asserts that he will deliver, in precise terms, a series of
Almcmacks — Old and New. 323
prophecies, by the fulfilment of wliicli his reputation shall
stand or fall ; and the first prophecy of this series is directed
against the famous Partridge himself. ' Having consulted the
star of his nativity by my own rules, I find he will infallibly
die upon the 29th of March next, about 11 at night, of a
raging fever; therefore I advise him to consider and to settle
his affairs in time/ Other 'prophecies ' follow, expressed in
language equally intelligible and distinct. As the ' prophecy '
concerning Partridge was the first, intense curiosity was
aroused to see what would happen ; and as soon as the fated
day had arrived, there appeared a second pamphlet entitled,
' The Accomplishment of the First of Mr. Bickerstaff's predic-
tions, being an account of the death of Mr. Partridge the
Almanack-maker upon the 29th instant; in a Letter to a
Person of Honour.' In this production the Dean minutely
described the circumstances preceding and attending the
astrologer's decease, and with masterly tact made him confess
that the whole mystery was one of deceit, and that he himself
was a poor ignorant fellow. But Partridge, who had not died,
yet felt himself incompetent to cope with his assailant, sent
out a rejoinder, written for him, it is said, by a neighbour,
the Rev. Dr. Yalden, under the title of ' Squire Bickers taff
Detected.' This composition is quite as diverting as the
Dean's, for it is chiefly occupied with an account of the tricks
played upon him by those who had fallen into the spirit
of Isaac Bickerstaff's original ' predictions,' and who zealously
co-operated to drive the poor symbol-drawerinto a nervous fever.
A single extract must suffice — ' Nay, the very reader of our
parish, a good, sober, discreet person, has sent two or three
times for me to come and be buried decently, or send him
sufficient reason to the contrary ; or, if I have been buried in
any other parish, to produce a certificate as the Act requires.
My poor wife is run almost distracted with being called Widow
Partridge, when she knows it is false ; and once a term she
is cited into the court to take out letters of administration ;
but my greatest grievance is a paltry quack that takes up my
calling just under my nose, and in his printed directions
with N.B., says he lives in the house of the late ingenious
Mr. John Partridge, the eminent practitioner in leather,
physic, and astrology.' Swift replied by 'A Vindication
of Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.,' in which he maintained that
Partridge had really died, giving reasons for the assertion,
and adroitly turning against Partridge's denial the well-
known device of using the names of long-dead astrologers
to maintain the circulation of the almanacks they originally
produced. Partridge was really so much upset by this ^t\*«£k.
324 Almanacks — Old amd New.
that for some years he did not edit the ahnanack bearing his
name, and though he resumed his old work, he died in 1714.
Swift did not wholly abandon his assault on the superstitious
trickery to which nearly all the almanack-makers were com-
mitted, but issued for 1709 a short paper entitled, ^ A famous
prediction of Merlin the British Wizard/ The Stationers* Com-
pany were not much moved by these charges of their polished
opponent; to his wit they opposed the prejudices of the
populace, and so, year by year, their almanacks, covered with
undecipherable symbols, spread their wings, travelling like
vast coveys, till they settled down in ten thousands of English
homes. Neither the Archbishop of Canterbury nor the Bishop
of London withheld his licence, and that licence was a salve
to any modicum of corporate conscience the Stationers* Com-
!)any possessed. Had these monopolists been capable of
earning from example, they might have been shamed and
schooled into a reformed course of action by the Philadelphia
printer, Benjamin Franklin, who in 1732 brought out his
'Poor Richard's Almanack,* and continued its publication
for twenty-five years, without resorting to moral garbage to
attract a sale. ' Poor Richard,* unlike ' Poor Robin* of
London, used no other seasoning but the salt of a humour
that evoked no blush, and of a proverbial wisdom that made
economy and temperance better appreciated by rich and poor.
In one sense the Stationers* Company studied economy — at
least they practised it, in its parsimonious guise, towards
the men whom they employed to do the necessary work, as is
apparent from a letter by a Robert Heath, of TJpnor Castle,
written in 1 753, in which he states : — ' The sheet almanack
of theirs sells 175,000, and they give three guineas for the
copy. Moore*s sells 75,000, and they give five guineas for
the copy. The Lady*8 sells above 30,000 (it sold but 17,000
when I first took it), and they give ten guineas for the copy.
Mrs. Beighton*s is the most copy -money of any other. The
Gentleman's copy is three guineas ; sells 7,000. This is a
fine company to write for !* The ' Ladies* Diary * and the
'Gentlemen's* here referred to were best known for their
mathematical problems ; it was their distinction to be the only
two of the Stationers* almanacks that were a credit to them—
(the one commenced in 1705, the other in 1741) — always
excepting the ' Nautical Almanack,* commenced in 1767, and
edited for many years by Dr. Maskelyne. This truly scientific
annual (formed on the plan of the French Oonnaisanoes des
Terns begun in 1698) fell for a season from its high reputation ;
but for thirty years past has risen higher than ever, and
supplies to the educated mariner, three years in advance^ all
Almanacks — Old and New. 325
the materials he requires for determining his position on the
waste of waters ploughed by his ship, out of sight of land, for
months together. But the Company's privileges were destined
to be invaded by a bold bookseller of St. PauFs Churchyard,
Thomas Caman by name, who, without asking their leave,
issued an almanack for the year 1771. He was committed to
Newgate at their instance, but continued to repeat the offence,
suffering a repetition of the penalty, till a case was drawn up
by the Lord Chancellor, in 1775, for the hearing of the
defendant's plea, challenging the legality of the plaintiff's
patent. The Court of Common Pleas heard the arguments on
either side, and unanimously decided, first, that the Stationers'
Company's patent only covered almanacks bearing the
approval of the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Bishop of
London ; and, secondly, that the Crown had no power to give
exclusive rights of printing and publishing publications of the
almanack class. The Company's lawyers, Mr. Serjeant
Glynn and Mr. Serjeant Hill, men of eminence at the bar,
having no standing grouad in the nature of the royal prero-
gative, or in legal precedents, had argued that almanacks
were a part of the Prayer-Book, which belonged to the King
as Head of the Church ; that they contained matters which
were received as conclusive evidence in courts of justice, and
therefore ought to be published by authority, with similar
trains of reasoning of no effect on the minds of the learned
judges. Erskine afterwards exposed the unsoundness of
this argumentation when he said that a precedent of the kind
sought for, though seemingly trifling, ^ may hereafter afford a
plausible inlet to much mischief. The protection of law may
be a pretence for a monopoly in all books on legal subjects.
The safety of the State may require the suppression of
histories and political writings. Even philosophy herself may
become once more the slave of the Schoolmen, and religion
fall again under the iron fetters of the Church.' These words
were part of a speech delivered by Erskine in the House of
Commons, whence the Stationers' Company, defeated in West-
minster Hall, had carried their own cause, in 1779, by means
of the Prime Minister, Lord North, who stood in need of all
the astrological aid the almanacks could render him and his
royal master in their war with the American Colonies. A
Bill was therefore introduced by Lord North to give to the
Stationers' Company the jurisdiction which it had been proved
it never lawfully possessed; but Erskine made a brilhant
speech in opposition, in the course of which he finely exposed
the plea advanced on the ground of ^correctness and decency'
required in the preparation of almanacks : — ^ I should really
326 Ahnanaeh — Old cmd New.
have been glad to liave cited some instances firom the llStli
edition of "Poor Eobin's Almanack/' published nnder the
revision of the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the Bishop of
London ; but I am prevented from doing it by a just respect
for the House. Indeed I know no house but a brothel that
could suffer the quotations. The worst part of Rochester is
Lidies' reading when compared with them.' He acutely
observed : — ^ Their almanacks have been, as everything else
that is monopolised comes to be, uniform and obstinate in
mistake and error for want of necessary rivalry. In Scotland
and Ireland, where the trade in almanacks has been free and
unrestrained, they have been eminent for excellence and usefiil
information.' The force of reason prevailed, and the House^
on May 10th, 1779, rejected the Minister's Bill by a
majority of forty-five votes. It was arranged that the
Universities should receive a grant in lieu of the annuity
which the Stationers' Company had been accustomed to pay
them for their share in the profits of the now-exploded patent.
But the Company was not to be beaten yet. The Courts of Law
and the High Court of Parliament had wrested from its grasp
the weapons of fine and imprisonment, but Philip's ' Golden
Key ' remained, and too much success attended the efforts of
the Company, who used to buy up or overwhelm all private-
competition. The result was a virtual monopoly, with the
nsuid effects ; and it was not till the second quarter of the
present century had begun that the Stationers' Company
discontinued some almanacks — 'Old Poor Robin' among
them — ^and issued others in a more creditable style. But a
great change was at hand. The Society for the Diffusion
of Useful Knowledge had been formed, and its 'British
Almanack for 1828,' with a 'Companion,' was the first of
a series, continued to the present year^ which broke np
the old stagnation, and inaugurated an era of activity and
improvement, as delightful as it was novel. The Stationers^
Company was very abusive, but it felt the healthy glow of
competition, and forthwith brought out the 'Englishman's^
Almanack,' a wonderful advance on all its previous perform-
ances in that literary line. Public enterprise attracted into thi»
channel, both by the success of the ' British Almanack,' and
by the timely abolished Act in 1834 of a tax of fifteenpence
per copy on all almanacks, soon kept pace with the progress
of the book trade in all its other branches.* To peruse,
all the almanacks that now swarm forth during every autumn
* From 1821 to 1830, the ayera£o number of almanacks printed was 499,000^
yielding an income of about £31,000.
Almanacks — Old and New. 327
would occupy an ordinary reader the entire succeeding year.
Some are weighty and bulky, like the elephant, others as
bright and tiny as the humming-bird. Science has its
' Nautical Almanack' and its ^ British Almanack,' with others
of lesser name. Mirth and drollery have the almanacks of
Punch and Fun. Choice illustrated almanacks, with letter-
press to match, are supplied by Cassell and other publishers
of repute. Professions and trades create almanacks of their
own — the licensed victuallers among the rest. Active provin-
cial printers furnish special districts with almanacks, mostly
charged with good matter; while pushing newspaper pro-
prietors, wakeful insurance societies, and ever-busy traders
turn the almanack into a medium for keeping their claims
before the public. The cause of Temperance is represented by
Tweedie's Almanack, tasteful and concise, and by Graham's,
running over with information of general interest and sterling
worth. The mere names of the almanacks of every season
baffle recollection, and the number of copies issued of them
defies enumeration. The ancient astrological phantasy still
survives in a half-crown ' Raphael's Prophetic Almanack,'
with a sensational picture; in a sixpenny 'Zadkiel's
Almanack,' edited by a retired lieutenant of the Royal
navy; and in 'Old Moore's Almanack,' with its artfrdly
contrived prognostications of the fates of men and nations.
But time and circumstance are occasionally too strong
for even astute astrologers. Dean Swift made merry over the
almanacks of his day that contained prayers all through 1702
for King William III., though the Orange hero had paid the
inevitable debt in the February of that year. A similar
contretemps has befallen 'Old Moore' in his forecastes of
1869, inasmuch as under May he predicts : ' Great events
will arise in Spain this year. The reign of the present
dynasty (!) will be seriously threatened^ (!) Alas! for the
lore that. could thus interpret the stars of May, 1869, but
could not apprehend the almost actual events of October,
1868! We must not forget to remark that in ' Oliver and
Boyd'g Edinburgh Almanack,' and in 'Thom's Irish
Almanack,' our Scotch and Irish countrymen have almanacks
of a standard reputation. The ' Almanach de Gotha ^ is in
its ninetieth year, and is Esteemed throughout Europe.
France has some of the best and some of the worst almanacks
at present printed. An almanack was published in Constan-
tinople as far back as 1706, under the patronage of Achmet
m. Persia has its almanacks, one of which is minutely
described by a writer in the Encyclopcedta Metropolitana.
Bayle relates a story of a maker of almanacks who, mis-
328 Our Canvass,
taking the sense of an abbreviated prefix, converted it into
'^ Saint Almanachus,' and tlien proceeded to assign that
nncanonised saint the 1st of January as his highday and
holiday. We fear that writers of almanacks must look out
for some other ghostly patron than the one thus improvised
for their service. But though our congratulations must be
otherwise directed, they may be very heartily and unre-
servedly extended. It is only requisite to put one of the
meagre, ill-printed (and, it may be, obscene) almanacks of
the seventeenth or eighteenth century side by side with one
of the present year, pleasant to the eye, and charged with
wholesome aliment for the mind, to recognise the progress
jnade not only in art, science, and industrial mechanics, but
also in moral refinement and public virtue. In the piles and
tons of almanacks for 1869 that have been recently scattered
over town and village, what stores of knowledge, what funds
of innocent recreation, have been set free ! St. Almanack
may not have presided over the composition of any; but
probably not in one is there a trace of indelicacy, not in
one a taint of moral pollution ; and this, in itself, is a spectacle
on which the eyes of every saint, and of all who prize a
nation's honour, may dwell with admiring approbation.
OUR CANVASS.
IT was not for the franchise of women, although we
believe all who help to make the wealth of a country
should have some voice in its expenditure. No ! our canvass
was for names to a petition to the Honourable Houses, to
repeal the law regarding the property and earnings of married
women. We do not believe in making our husbands into
^ greedy Dicks,' and vulgarly cry as the farmer did to his
rector when seizing for tithes, ' Parson, ahoy there ! snacks.'*
It was just before the last session that we got our petition
neatly rolled up in oil case, and sallied forth into the suburbs
of the busy Cottonopolis. Such scorching weather, too, with
the thermometer at 100°, and the roads hot and dusty as might
be. We put on our coolest dress, took a large umbrella, and
were fairly in for our first day's work.
We commenced with the private houses, some of those
elegant little terraces, with smooth grass before the doors.
Conquering all bashfulness, we rang boldly, and were
answered by housemaids armed with broom and duster. If
.ese personages were amiable, ^ they would tell missus,' and
Our Canvass. 329
we were asked into the drawing-room ; if not, we were dis-
missed with the awful announcement that ^ missus was too
much engaged to see anyone, and would be so all day/ a small
untruth, for which it is to be hoped they will be forgiven. In
the former case wo sat in the state-room till the lady of the
house came, and then we opened our business, and unfolded
our papers with professional ease. If the personage in ques-
tion had defective sight, we had to wait till her glasses were
sought up, and then the scrutiny began, to which succeeded
sundry remarks of disapproval. ' It is not women's work to
meddle with politics at all. TheyM better stop at home and
mind the house, and leave altering the laws to their husbands,
if they want altering, which I don't believe they do.' ^ But if
they find the husbands don't do it,' we nervously suggest,
' are we out of place in trying to get our own earnings pro-
tected, and the right of claiming them for ourselves in case of
need V
' Why, yes ! If a woman's good for anything, she can
make her husband do as she pleases, and if she is not, why
. . .' The rest of the sentence was inaudible.
^But there are very good women who have improvident,
unsteady men, who are willing to work and maintain their
children. Are such not entitled to a share of their own
industry ?'
' I don't know, perhaps they are ; I never thought about it ;
have not time.'
' Then you will not append your name to our petition, and
assist your own sex ?'
' Not this morning, thank you.'
So we go on from house to house, with pretty much the
same success, except that here and there we Ught on some
pretty misses, Nellies and Jessies, a Uttle ahead of mamma,
who[declare it is really a very good thing. ' They would not like
their husbands to have all their money. No ! they would
like a little to spend themselves in nicknacks ; they'll sign^
that they will, it will be such capital fun for the young men
to see they can't have all their own way.' So the inkstand is
produced, pens are tried on the blotting paper, and, finally^
autographs are made in the fashionable scrawl of misses in
their minority.
Never mind, their names are better than none, and help to
make a respectable beginning.
We have received a gentle hint to secure the names of the
most popular clergymen at once, so we thought we might now
make the attempt.
Now it is no joke to make a morning call on one of these
330 Our Canvass.
functionaries, especially without your card, or, what is worse,
without a contribution to some charitable fund which the
pastor patronises. But as he is too moral to send out
the fashionable answer ^not at home,' we are ushered in.
'What can I do for you to-day ?' said one of these gentlemen
to us. We fear it was not a very proper answer, but we felt
an irresistible desire to say ^Nothing;' and we said it
penitently, qualifying our reply by the latter end of our sen-
tence, in which we said, ' Please to give your name to this
petition.* The black cloth eyed us suspiciously ; read aloud
' amend the law -/ was horrified at the temerity of the words ;
bade us beware of weakening the marriage tie, and con-
scientiously declined further notice of us. Bad omen ! we
inwardly ejaculated ; but then a comforting thought suggested
itself in the form of a question : ' Are not this class of the com-
munity often a little behindhand in social progression ? Why
is it so ?' We did not try to solve the problem, but resolved
to try another clergyman whose views were said to be liberal
and enlightened. A pleasant country walk led to his chaiming
residence, a sweet little nook buried in trees. It was near a
beautiful grave-yard, whose rural church possessed a sweet
artistic beauty peculiarly its own. As we rang at the bell
of the rectory we looked on the quiet beauty of the scene
around us, and wondered how so lovely a place could exist so
near to one of the busiest marts of Europe. Our appeal was
answered by a man-servant, who was polite enough not to
keep us standing in the passage, but showed us at once to the
library, where sat his master absorbed in books and papers.
He looked the embodiment of benevolence, and we explained
our mission, unfolding the scroll upon the table. The
reverend gentleman had his doubts as to the propriety of
giving the fair sex so much extra power ; but he was open to
conviction, and told us how in his own large parish he had
seen what women have to endure, when the head of the family
is idle, thriftless, and a drunkard. He listened courteously
whilst we ventured a few words rather interrogatively. ' Do
not the teachings of the New Testament imply that a nobler
and more extended social protection will be accorded to us
eventually? Did not the Great Teacher himself honour
women specially, and deign to become their friend and guest ?
Is not the influence of woman in the churches at the present
day equal to, if not greater, than that of men ; and is not her
agency sought and accepted in every great social movement f
The pen was slowly taken up, but remained passive till
counter queries were put.
'Will not such a law as the one you contemplate bring
Our Ocmvass. 331
domestic misery, by making the wife independent of her hus-
band ? and will she then, as heretofore, succour and sustain
him in case of misfortunes or sickness ? Perfect love should
cast out all fear ; a wife should learn to trust her worldly
goods with one, to whom she has given herself/
' Certainly,' we meekly reply, ' but where a man neglects
OP starves his family, a true woman's duty is not to trust him,
but to arouse herself to work to give her children bread. It
is not for the loving, happy wife we are pleading, so much as
for her who has found only too late the mistake she made on
her wedding-day/
' Yes, there is reason in what you say/ Down goes the
pen, and the autograph of a pillar of the English Church is
ours.
After we have passed the green lanes, and the hedges, hung
over with garlands of roses, we come into the streets where are
shops on either side the road. We enter, and soon get a
long list of names.
TVue, it looks rather democratic, and the paper has got
rather greasy on the counters, but the owner of the homy
hand that signed it would cheer us up by remarking, ^ Yes,
PU set my name to that, with both hands if you like. I don't
want a woman to work for me ; least ways, I won't touch a
penny of her earnings. She may keep all for herself and
childer.'
Next we come to a smart grocer's shop, with spruce look-
ing windows, filled with goods of extra quality. We step in,
inhaling the odour of spices and fresh ground coffee. Parry-
ing to the best of our ability the usual query, ' What do you
please to want to-day ?' and feeling real compunction that we
want nothing in the grocery line, we modestly request the
shopkeeper's signature. With a sceptical air he replies, ^ I
have made up my mind to give nothing to public subscrip-
tions.' ' Oh ! we are not begging. We only want your name
to this paper.' The gentleman of the white apron scans it,
looks at each name separately, and then, with praiseworthy
candour, declares, 'No, I shan't sign that, because Fm a
widower, and mean to marry again, a nice young girl with
plenty of money, with which I mean to do what I like ; so
you see I should be a hypocrite to sign.' We fully concurred
in this opinion, and took our leave.
A little dark comer shop in a narrow dirty street we next
alighted on. It would be difficult to designate it but as a
general shop, for all sorts of things seemed there. Without
much eye to the aesthetic in arrangement, bread, bacon,
herrings, cottons, and tapes were all jimibled together.
332 Our Canvass.
We wanted the master, whose hands looked as if he might
just have blackleaded the grate. As soon as he compre-
hended, he assured us he would sign that ; that was good !
accompanying his assertion with a thump on the counter.
Pointing to an old barrel which stood topsyturvy, he bade
us be seated whilst he went in search of pen and ink, taking
our precious document with him. A considerable time elapsed
before he returned, and then with a grin of delight on his face
he produced our paper with about a dozen hieroglyphics, each
one bearing a large blot. ' See here, I have got you such a
many, there^s Bill Smith, as works next door, and he can^t
write, so Fs set him down, and Tom Pedlar, and Jim and
Jack Jones, and .' ^ But, stop,' we said in chagrin,
' these names ' ' No, I bezant going to stop ; there's a
sight more a coming yet, our missus is a better schollard, and
she'll set you down plenty.'
^ But, my good fellow, we cannot take names in another
person's handwriting, it is illegal.'
' 111 what ?' We explained. ' I don't care for that, if them
Parliament men won't take honest working folks's names,
they may go without, they may,' and down came the fist upon
the counter, thump, thump, thump. We were glad to beat a
speedy retreat without divulging to our earnest friend our
intention of cutting out his names on our return home.
Our next venture was to a shop with the three golden
balls; and, as it was thronged with men and women, we
hesitated at first to enter it. But the hope of success pre-
vailed, and we quietly waited our turn. The pawnbroker
approached us, and heard our errand. ^ Ah ! I know plenty.
I see every day what it is for women to be tied to brutes as
won't work, and as makes 'em give them their earnings to
buy drink ; but I won't sign for all that.' ' Why not F' we
ask in a tone of surprise. ^ Hadn't Bright something to do
with it ?' Should we plead ignorance, and say we did not
know ? No ! Truth is always best, so we said proudly he
was on our committee.
^ I thought as much ; you may sign it yourselves. I wish
Bright and all such like were smothered,' and sweeping our
papers from the counter, he left us to retire as best we could.
We entered next a large establishment whose master ap-
proved our undertaking, and recommended his six assistants
to give their names. Whilst they were writing, a younff
woman who had come in for some tea stood an interested
listener to the remarks going on. When we left the shop
she was waiting outside to speak to us—' 0, did I understand
fU right ? do you want to get a law to take care of women's
A Cliapter of Prison Discipline. 338
earnings V We answered afl5rmatively. ^ Can I sign/ ' Yes/
' Then let me. I have good occasion/ ^Indeed ! it's a pity/
' I married very young, and soon found out I had done badly.
My husband could earn good wages, but he spent them all
at the public-house or the gin-shop. I went out to-day's
work, and so managed to keep things a little together, but
latteriy he has left of work, and insisted on taking from me
all my earnings. So I have left him, to go out as a cook. My
friends are kind, and would make me a home and furnish me
a little shop ; but what good would it be ? for he will surely
take all as soon as it is done. Have not I need, then, to sign
for a law which would protect me from such a man V So
she added her name with eagerness.
This was a practical witness for the truth of our purpose,
and encouraged us for the difficulties which loomed for us in
the horizon of the coming day, when we should again go
forth amongst all the varieties of the genus homo that popu-
late the vast Cottonopolis.
A CHAPTER OF PRISON DISCIPLINE.
HOW are we to treat our criminals ? The subject of prison
management occupies just now a considerable share of
public attention ; and there are not wanting plenty of answers
to the inquiry. Unfortunately the most prominent are utterly
irreconcilable with each other; and in arguing the point
upon abstract grounds merely, there does not seem much
prospect of an agreement being speedily concluded. Under
such circumstances a few well-established facts have their
value. The question in dispute has a twofold character. It
is upon the one hand moral and judicial ; on the other it is
economical. All are agreed that the ultimate object of the
existence of criminal laws, and of the actual embodiment of
their provisions in gaols and convict establishments, is the
prevention of crime. Punishment is only partially retrospec-
tive in its character. We send our criminals to prison, not
merely because they have broken the law in the past, but that
the law may be less frequently broken in the future. The chief
problem to be solved is this, — ^by what means can the imprison-
ment be rendered best fitted to produce that result ? One
party holds that the term of incarceration should be rendered '
as obnoxious to the offender as possible by the adoption of
stringent punitive measures. The oppositeviewis that no means
by which a reformation in the criminal can be produced should
334 A Ckafier of Prison DUcipline.
be left untried. ThAt the latter is the sonnder theory of the two
does not, to onr mind, admit of a doubt. Let the punishment
inflicted upon criminals be as severe as it may ; if it is the feac
of punishment alone that keeps them from crime, that fear will
lose its power whenever the temptation to offend outweighs
in the mind of the offender the chances of detection. Besides^
we have to deal not with occasional violators of the law only— -
thev are the exception — ^but with criminal classes. It is their
business to prey upon society. If retribution invariably over-
took them on each act of their nefarious careers, severe
punishment would undoubtedly put a stop to their misdeeds.
Notoriously the fact is not so. The immense majority of
offences cany no punishment in their train ; and under the
merely punitive system of prison discipline, the professional
criminal and the police are engaged in a perpetual trial of
skill— one to detect and the other not to be detected. While
the motive and the inclination to be criminal remain, crime
will remain also ; and by putting punishment in the place of
reformation we only make our thieves and swindlers more
skilful mal-practitioners. As to casual offenders, they, we
take it, come within the criminal ranks just because at some
particular moment circumstances present the advantages of
crime in a stronger light than its disadvantages, a wide
margin always being left for the possibility of not being found
outs
Ck>sely allied with this, the moral and judicial aspect of the
question, is the economical. The advocates of the merely
punitive system contend for the use of unproductive labour,
as btnng a very severe form of punishment. Those who
boliovo that all prison discipline should be reformatory in its
toudonoy, hold that remunerative labour, whilst sufficiently
punitive, is best calculated to inculcate habits of industry, and
iViisoquoutly to produce the great end of criminal legislation.
Tho nmnagi^niout and direction of prison labour has, therefore,
nu importanco far beyond the direct pecuniary results. If
oxponouco proved that unremunerative labour had the best
otloot in iho provention of crime, — if it was found that punish-
luout pun> and simple was the best deterrent, — there would be
no choioo, wo must put up with things as they are, and maintain
o\ir oriininals as well as correct them. But if, on the contrary,
n>inunorativo labour works most successfully; if, the less the
not ooKt of our gaols the more preventative does the discipline
im>vo, thort> is a double reason for its adoption. Then the
inoH* *wt> nnluco the cost of our criminals, the less formidable
^ill iUono oriniinals bo.
It will bo tt long time before the differences between the
A Chapter of Prison DUdpUne, 335
advocates of the productive and non-productive labour
systems will be settled, if we trust to argument alone. There
are, however, such great variations in practice in the manage-
ment of our county and borough gaols, and of the large public
prisons, that some appeal to experience on behalf of the
newer, the remunerative theory, is possible. In the abstract^
everybody admits that it will be a very fine thing if we can
reform our criminals either wholly or nearly at their own
cost, instead of maintaining them at the public charges in
idleness, or, what is practically the same thing, in unpro-
ductive labour. The opponents of the productive system do
not accept it, simply because they doubt its power to realise
its promises. If, then, it can be shown by the test of actual
facts that their fears are groundless, their more or less speedy
•conversion may be anticipated. There would be no diflSculty
whatever in deciding the controversy by the experience of
American and continental prison management ; but there are
many reasons why illustrations drawn from within our own
borders must in the long run prove more generally satis-
factory. The object of the present Paper is to state what has
been effected in one of the larger towns of the West of
England ; — to make the public acquainted with the system of
management adopted in the borough gaol of Devonport, and
its results.
The Devonport gaol is a modem structure, planned in con-
formity with the principles of prison arrangement now gene-
rally received. It contains 81 certified cells, and there is
attached to it a large walled-in garden. The staff of manage-
ment consists of nine persons — a governor (Mr. Edwards),
chaplain, surgeon, matron, female warder, schoolmaster-
warder, two second warders, and a porter. It has been Mr.
Edwards^s constant endeavour to reduce the cost of the
prison as much as possible ; and he has succeeded so far that
he has effected a saving, as compared with the management
of his predecessor, of about £250 a year, the total charges
now averaging rather over £1,000. This is, of course, a very
substantial benefit looked at from the merely pecuniary point
of view ; but, when we come to inquire further, we find that
the good effects of the system now in force at Devonport are
by no means confined to the pockets of the ratepayers. Since
Mr. Edwards has held the office of goveraor, the number of
re-committals has very largely decreased ; and concurrently
with the economical, the most safcisfactory reformatory results
have been attained. This fact admits of the very clearest
demonstration. The system of management adopted by
Mr. Edwards, and concurred in by the local authorities, who.
336 A Chapter of Prison Discipline,
instead of tlirowing any impediments in the way of his
reforms, have aided him to the utmost of their power, is
based upon three principles. First, that nothing shall be
done for the prisoners that they can do for themselves.
Second, that all labour shall be remunerative. Third, that
from every prisoner capable and willing, a certain amount of
work shall be exacted. In many respects, of course, the
Devonport gaol resembles other establishments of a similar
character, and, in the details which follow, it is not to be
understood that in every particular its arrangements are
quoted as exceptional.
The work done by the prisoners comprises all that is
usually performed in gaols, and not a little that is unusual.
All the clothes — including shoes — ^required for prison use are
made, washed, and mended in the establishment. The
prisoners also cultivate the prison garden, pick oakum, make
mats, brushes, and sacks, and moreover do what carpentry,
masons' work, and painting may be needed. The garden
produces all the vegetables required for the use of the prison,
absolutely free of cost. Enough extra produce is grown to
buy such vegetables as the garden cannot yield, and to pur-
chase seed and other things necessary for cultivation. The
prison itself furnishes all the manure, and indeed more than
is wanted, the overplus having been sold. Oakum-picking is
not generally considered profitable employment, nor is it
particularly so at Devonport, where, however, it pays far
better than is usually the case. Mr. Edwards has contrived
a very ingenious machine, which prepares the oakum for
picking in such a way that twice or thrice the usual quantity
can bo got through in a given time by the prisoners. The
brush-making is not of much importance, as it chiefly consists
in refilling with hair the old heads of the brushes used about
the prison, the wooden parts of which thus last ten or a
dozen times as long as they would under ordinary circum-
stances. However, it helps to inculcate habits of industry,
and effects some little saving. Sacks are made by the dozen,
and pay about as well as oakum-picking. The mat-making
is the most profitable form of labour adopted, and many of
the prisoners turn out excellent work. Mr. Edwards has
never, indeed, any difficulty in finding a market for his wares
at thoroughly remunerative prices. What has been done in
the way of masons' and carpenters' work by the prisoners, is
really extraordinary. Under the direction of the governor,
a soldier who had been discharged with disgrace — a shoe-
maker by trade — ^built and fitted up sixteen new cells in the
basement of the prison, the additional accommodation thus
A Chapter of Prison Discipline* 337
provided costing the borough the price of the materials only.
Additions have also been made to the main building, an
oakum shed erected, and other work of a similar kind
executed, entirely by the prisoners ; and in every respect the
masonry, carpentry, painting, slating, &c., will bear com-
parison with that of ordinary work. The actual money value
of the prisoners' labour is estimated at from 3d. up to 2s. 6d.
a day ; and Mr. Edwards has found the men who work in the
garden to do more than free labourers. In the list of the
staff of the gaol, given above, it may have been noticed that
there is no mention of a cook. The fact is, that under the
new regime a cook has been dispensed with, prison labour
being found quite equal to all culinary duty.
Care is taken that the prisoners shall never want remunera-
tive employment. In many prisons, where oakum-picking con-
stitutes almost the only form of directly profitable labour in
vogue, there is often no oakum to pick in consequence of no
orders for oakum-picking having been received. This never
happens at Devonport. Oakum is bought and picked on the
prison account, and if there are no immediate customers it is
put in store until there be. ' But,' it may reasonably be asked,
' seeing that by recent legislation every prisoner sentenced to
hard labour must be employed at first-class (i.e., unproductive)
labour for at least the first three months of his or her term,
how can all labour in the Devonport gaol be remunerative V
When prison after prison is re-adopting the treadmill, in
obedience to this worse than useless mandate, the question is
a very natural one. The answer is very simple. As compared
with the unproductive, the remunerative system has been
found to work so well at Devonport, that in order to continit^.
it, prisoners committed to that gaol are not sentenced to hard
labour at all. There are cranks at Devonport, and there is a.
shot-drill ground, but practically they are unused. The:
experience of the prison proves that many prisoners prefer
shot-drill to oakum-picking; moreover, that remunerative
labour, as there applied, is at once more punitive and more
reformatory in its character than ordinary prison discipline.
It is so strictly the rule at Devonport not to sentence to hard
labour, that not only is this practice observed by the magis-
trates and Recorder, but the local heads of the military and
naval departments, being convinced from personal knowledge
of the wisdom of the system carried out by Mr. Edwards, deal
in a similar manner with the prisoners convicted by court-
martial who are commonly committed to the borough gaol.
But for the third principle of management, it is impossible
that the satisfactory results of which we have been speakimr
Vol. 11.— JVb. 44. X
338 lAfe at the Tail of Commerce' in London.
could have been attained. It is not enougli to provide work of
a remunerative character for the prisoners^ Eidapted to their
separate abilities. The work must be done^ and had not Mr.
Edwards hit upon a thoroughly successful way of making each
prisoner do the amount of work of which he or she is capable^
his labours to a great extent would have been in vain. His
rule is, that every prisoner capable of work shall earn at least
the cost of his or her food. Upon their entry into the
prison, therefore, he tells them what he expects them to do,
and the consequences of failure. If they do fail, punishment
invariably follows, and this punishment consists, — not in con-
finement in the dark cells, for these are never used at Devonport
— but in cutting off an adequate proportion of the daily allow-
ance of food, the full amount of work being nevertheless exacted.
Mr. Edwards proceeds, in fact, upon the Scriptural precept,
' He that will not work neither shall he eat,' and he records
with reasonable satisfaction that he has never known this
plan of management to fail. And here it may be mentioned
that the Government scale of dietary, which is that in use at
Devonport, is believed by Mr. Edwards to be peculiarly cal-
culated for the reclamation of dissipated characters.
These are all facts that speak for themselves, and therefore
this ' Chapter of Prison Management ' may safely be trusted
to serve the object for which it has been made public without
any further comment. It may be as well to add, however,
that with an average of 57^ prisoners, the net annual cost to
the borough of the Devonport gaol during the last four years
has only been £250. Some allowance, however, is to be made
for the fact that the Government payment for naval and
military prisoners is greater than that for ordinary prisoners.
The average annual cost per head of the prisoners has been
£17. 18s. l^d. No definite estimate has been formed of the
total value of their labour, but the money receipts average
about £150 per year.
LIFE AT THE TAIL OP COMMERCE IN LONDON.
THERE is no adage more true than that which informs us
that one-half of the world does not know how the other
lives. Although there are three millions of human beings in
London, the great majority of them are as much strangers to
each other^s ways of obtaining a living as if they lived in
opposite hemispheres. The members of each of the numerous
bodies who live by trading are thoroughly absorbed in their
lAfe at the Tail of Oommerce in London. 839
own duties, and liave neither time nor desire to trouble them-
selves about the aflPairs of neighbours who may be either above
or below them in the social scale. Each of the different sec-
tions into which the great trading population of London is
divided is fighting the battle of life upon its own account, and
although hundreds are daily falling out of the ranks by death
or failure in business, the battle goes on, and the fallen mem-
bers are either not missed or not cared for. In this Paper we
design to introduce to our readers sundry classes in the trading
community who live from hand to mouth, and who, as a
general rule, have a constant struggle to keep their souls and
bodies together.
Strangers from the country upon visiting London cannot
have failed, while passing along her busy thoroughfares, to have
seen dirty, cadaverous-looking men creeping along the streets,
swathed in rags which are frequently insufficient to cover
their nakedness, with old hampers slung over their shoulders
filled with plantain and groundsel, or, in lieu of these, ferns
and other wild plants, which they bring in from the country,
to find a market for them in the great town. These poor
creatures have no homes, and never enjoy the luxury of a
bed. If they are ever washed, it must be with the rain from
the clouds ; and if their stolid minds ever feel a pleasure, it
must be one that is common in kind alike to themselves and
the parasites who feed upon their bodies. A bellyful of food,
and perhaps after that a smoke of tobacco, constitute their
greatest earthly enjoyment. The savages who roam the
woods and prairies of America are gentlemen compared with
these wild denizens of London. All the other classes of
society who live down in the valley of poverty in the great
metropolis are gregarious in their habits, but these creatures,
as far as we have been able to learn, are solitary wanderers ;
they have none but themselves to commune with, and if ever
they reflect at all, it is not likely that they can find much
pleasure in their own thoughts. The past must soon become
a blank to them, and their hopes, no doubt, will be confined
to the immediate future.
'J'here is another set of nomads who belong to the same
family, but who are several grades higher in the social scale.
These men supply the wholesale flower- dealers with mosses
for garnishing purposes, and when there is not a market for
these things, they bring hamper-loads of wild fern and such
green leaves as are used for decorating fruit-stalls. The
leaves most in use from early spring to far on to the end of
autumn are those of the horse-chestnut. It would scarcely
be credited by strangers to the trade that several descriptions
340 lAfe at the Tail of Commerce in London.
of mosses supplied by these men are brought^ in many
instances, from a distance of thirty and even forty miles.
Indeed, we have heard of some particular kinds which are
fetched from the neighbourhood of Dover. These mosses
having been carefully plucked up, are cleaned from earthy
matter, sorted, and tied up into small bundles, and then they
are closely packed in a hamper. We have been told that a
man will occasionally carry from ten to fourteen shillings^
worth at a time. This class of men do make something like
a living ; but the labour is exceedingly hard, and as the busi-
ness depends upon the weather and the seasons, it is very
precarious. Many of the most suitable mosses are found in
woody dells and shady glens, and as the people who gather
them are botanical poachers, they are continually making
themselves liable to be prosecuted for trespass.
The common, every-day street dealers in London are a very
numerous class. In a walk from Chelsea to the Victoria
Dock, the same sort of itinerant merchants will be met with
over the whole distance ; and the like would be found in
whatever direction we might go in this great conglomerate
of towns. The juvenile street match-dealers are perhaps the
most numerous in the present day. Their business is, how*
ever, not confined to the young; there are numbers of adults in
it, and many old and infirm persons manage to drag out a living
by it. Boot laces, leather purses, toothpicks, hat guards,
combs, dolls, song books, finger rings, rush bags, and micro*
scopes are articles which have all the retail value of one
penny ; and few of the hawkers deal in more than one class
of goods. A small amount of capital will, therefore, set a
person up in trade, and as the wholesale market is on the
spot, the stock can be renewed without trouble.
The button-hole flower-girls of late years have become a
very numerous class of street dealers, and daily frequent all
the leading thoroughfares in the city. Although theirs is not
a laborious business, there is no class of street dealers who
ply their trade with more industry; and, as maybe supposed,
the more tidy in dress, and the more good-looking the girls
are, the better chance they will have in doing business. The
flowers are purchased in Co vent Garden market, in small
bundles. Each class of flowers in season is sold by itself;
and out of a collection of these the girls make up their nose-
gays. There is another set of flower-girls who deal in
bouquets, ranging in price from a penny up to sixpence.^
This business, however, is not so profitable as the other.
The next class of female street dealers are the basket girls^
and they are more numerous than the other two put together*
lAfe at the Tail of Commerce in London. 841
Their business is a very laborious one^ inasmucli as the girls
are every now and then obliged to change their beat at the
command of the police. The business of these girls is
generally confined to the sale of home and foreign fruit in their
seasons ; there are some, however, who live by hawking hot-
house plants, which can be purchased in Covent Garden market
all the year round. To those who know what a pride London
people of all grades take in their window flower-gardens, it
will not 6eem surprising that this business should be a very
important one. There are a few women who make a living by
hawking vegetables, but as those are both bulky and heavy,
this business, as a general rule, is confined to the costermongers
who have donkey carts.
The street-stall dealers are a very numerous body, and
certainly there is no other class among all the industrial poor
of London who are subjected to such an amount of suffering.
They are exposed to all sorts of weather, and as their bodies
are without sufficient exercise in winter to keep the blood in
circulation, their condition is truly pitiable. Many a time we
have felt heart-sore when passing the end of Newgate in the
cold, frosty days, as we have looked upon the poor blind man
who sat shivering in the cold, with his blood evidently almost
congealed in his body. This man^s stock-in-trade consisted
of a few brass dog-collars, wire chains, and other trifling
articles. Many a time as we passed him we thought we
should see him no more ; and at last the iron rails, on which
his merchandise was wont to be suspended, were bare, and
his seat by their side was gone. We knew, then, that Grod
had called him home, and we were thankful that it was so.
There must have been an amazing vitality in that poor man's
constitution, for we are certain he must have suffered as much
as would have killed half-a-dozen ordinary men. We often
see fresh faces at old stalls, and we know that the former
occupants have passed away. It is only the hardy, human
plants that can bear for any considerable length of time the
blighting influence of cold and want on the streets of London.
The market-stall people in London number many thousands.
These people, too, are exposed to a continual round of suffer-
ing and privation. In many instances a week of stormy
weather involves them in ruin for the time being. Nothing
can be a more pitiable sight to a person of right feeling than
the condition of this class of people when overtaken by a
rainy Saturday. Such an occasion paralyses them with dis-
iippointment and blights their hopes, it may be for weeks
together. This is not to be wondered at when it is known
that their whole worldly wealth consists of a few shillings'
342 lAfe at the Tail of OoTnmierce in London.
worth of small articles, and these, probably, of a perishable
nature. It is quite a common thing for the stall fish-dealers
to have their whole stock-in-trade perish during the occur-
rence of weather in which it cannot be exposed for sale.
Some little time ago we were passing along Leather Lane, one
of the most active and bustling markets for the poor in
London, when we heard a woman, with a hand-cart covered
with fruit, telling her neighbours that unless the weather
should clear up (it was then raining smartly), she would be
ruined, as the fruit she had would not keep till Monday.
When it is known that large quantities of the eatable articles
which form the stock-in-trade of this class of people, are of
such a character that they will not be sold by respectable
dealers, and that in many instances they are in a condition in
which they are really not fit for human food, it will be plain
that unless a ready sale can be efiected, the dealers will suffer
loss. Much of the fish which is exposed in such markets as
Leather Lane is in an active state of decomposition, and
ought not be allowed to be sold. It .would be a difficult
matter to enumerate all the different kinds of goods exposed
for sale in the London markets for the poor, but we are not
far wrong in saying that a poor person, whether married or
single, cannot fail to find everything he may require for food,
clothing, or domestic use. And, what is of no small con-
sequence, he can get a greater bulk for a small sum of money
than can bo had elsewhere. Some of our philosophers might
learn useful lessons in the common humanities by an occa-
sional visit to Leather Lane or Golden Lane on a Saturday
night, between the hours of eight and twelve o'clock.
There is^one poor man's market which is unique in London,
and may be said to be the most extraordinary emporium of
traffic in the world. Petticoat Lane is pretty well known by
name, but there are hundreds of thousands of people in the
metropolis who really know no more about it than if it
were a bartering locality in Jeddo. Houndsditch and the con-
geries of narrow, dirty, dark lanes, courts, and slums bounding
it on the north, is the Jews' quarter, and as these people are
solely a trading community, the whole of this region is a
wonderful place for all sorts of traffic. Petticoat Lane market
is held once a week, but instead of being on the seventh day,
it is held on the morning of the first. The principal open
business is done in the lane. Gravel Lane, and the varioas
covered-in markets bordering on Houndsditch.
From ten to twelve o'clock on a Sunday morning this
market presents a series of scenes which defy description. In
each the battle of life is going on under all the phases of
lAfe at the Tail of Commerce in London. 94S
chicanery^ meanness^ and deceit^ hope^ fear^ and anxiety.
There is really nothing that saint, savage, or civilised man
can require for either use, ornament, or amusement but may
be purchased in this market. There is scarcely a square foot
of space in the whole region that is not occupied by some
dealer. Men, women, and children compete with one another
for elbow-room. Hundreds of people, old or young, stand in
the lanes with their little stocks of merchandise in their hands,
and numbers make shop counters of the ground in the
thoroughfares. Large quantities of the goods exhibited by
the dealers are manufactured by themselves or families. The
mind of a thoughtful person, while watching the struggle for
existence in this market, must naturally pass from the small
manufacturers to their miserable homes, where work is being
done under great privations and suflFering of mind and body.
Thousands of these people can scarcely be said to live. The
majority of them do little more than creep over the short
distance of space that divides their entrance into the world
from their exit. The character of society in this human hive
is well calculated to sharpen the wits of its members. A
large number of the dealers are without anything inside them
that can enable them to draw the distinction between right
and wrong. Conscience is a thing of education, and education^
in any good sense of the word, they never received. In passing
along any of the thoroughfares in the market, a stranger will
be caught hold of every few steps he moves onward by vigilant
shop-touters, and he will have all sorts of things held up to
his sight by the street dealers, while his sense of hearing will
be outraged with a confusion of sounds more intolerable than
those of a lunatic asylum let loose. The aroma of this lane is^
as far as our experience goes, peculiar to itself. W^e have had
our olfactory organs excited by the odour of Chatham and
Water Streets in the empire city, but we never met with any
perfume of the kind equal in pungency to that which sheds its
fragrance over this lane. The dirty Jews, more particularly
those who are natives of Germany, are, we believe, first among
all the civilised families of men in the exuberance of their
filth. This market has a polyglot character about it which no
other centre of trade in Great Britain possesses. Germans,
Prussians, Poles, Hungarians, Austrian s, Russians, Swedes,
Norwegians, Laps, Italians, French, Spaniards, Greeks, and
natives of Turkey from both sides of the Bosphorus may all
buy and sell in Petticoat Lane, each in his own language.
The natives of the Western Highlands, the Cymrians, and the
boys from Connaught, can barter for what they may want in
this modern Jewry, each in his own peculiar ancient
3i4 lAfe at the Tail of Commerce in London.
dialect. A great variety of articles can be purchased in the
lane at a cheaper rate than they can be had for elsewhere.
This arises from two causes. In the first place, the price
j)aid for the labour of manufacture is often very smallj
-or, not unfrequently, necessity obliges the dealers to dispose
-of their goods at a sacrifice. In the second place, large
-quantities of various articles of commerce find their way into
the market without the consent of their legitimate owners.
Of course these goods can be sold at a good profit at less
than half their wholesale price. There are a goodly number
of people, young or middle-aged, who do business in this
market without the trouble and anxiety consequent upon
buying and selling, and there is no class of people in that
busy region who ply their trade with greater industry. These
gentlemen have a wonderful faculty in discerning the proper
objects of their attention. They know the daisies from the
tulips, and they seldom make a mistake. If a stranger in the
lane should detect an artist relieving him of any of his
property, twenty to one the discovery will not tell in his
favour. Every case of robbery is well covered, and if the
person being victimised will not allow his property to be taken
from him quietly, he runs a fair chance of being maltreated
for his imprudence. Generally speaking, men do not like to
be divested of their property against their will without a
protest in some shape, but unless the person who is being
operated upon in this manner in a crowd in the lane, or else-
where in London, can see a policeman within easy distance, it
will be best for him to bear his loss with stoical indifference
and pass on. The humbler class of street dealers in Petticoat
Lane labour under the same liabilities to loss through change
of weather as their fellows do in all the other markets for the
poor in London. A wet or stormy Sunday involves thousands
of them in serious difficulties for the time being. It is curious
how the business character of localities in a town like London
is liable to change with the shifting events of the times.
Nearly sixty years ago the Petticoat Lane of that date was
Rosemary Lane, off the Minories, and the ' Fells Market ' of
the present day was then represented by Bag Fair, which was
then held in the open space on Tower Hill. Since those days
many new markets have sprung into existence, and numbers
of old rookeries have been swept away ; — among the latter
both Saint Gileses and Saint Catherine's have been blotted
from the map of London.
The costermongers are by far the most numerous class of
street dealers in London. They haunt every street, lane,
court, square, crescent, and alley over a radius of at least
lAfe at the Tail of Commerce in London. 345
sixteen miles, and their unmelodioas voices are heard amid
the noise and bustle of the busy thoroughfares in the city,
and startling the echoes in the quiet streets in the suburbs.
We know of no class of people, either in London or elsewhere,
who ply their business with such indefatigable industry.
They are at their work late and early, and are out in all
weathers. No life can really be more laboriously slavish than
that of the costermonger, who often drags a heavy-laden hand-
cart about the great city from early mom to late at night.
As a general rule, the business of the costermongers may
be divided into four different branches; according as the articles
dealt in are vegetables, fruit, hot-house plants, or fish, whether
shell or otherwise. These people seldom deal in more than
one class of goods at a time, and there is a policy in doing so,
inasmuch as they have a better chance of laying their money
out to advantage in purchasing large than small quantities of
such goods as they require. When the costermonger is
successful in disposing of his stock, he is obliged to attend
the wholesale market daily, and this of itself is attended with
no little labour. In the East End of London he finds in
Bethnal Green a market in which he can purchase vegetables
and home-grown fruits in their season. The Borough market
supplies the transpontine dealers ; and Farringdon and
Covent Garden those of the great centre and West End of
London. As Billingsgate is the only wholesale fish market,
the dealers, in many cases, have to come a long distance; and as
the business of this market commences early, time must be
taken by the forelock by customers who wish to have a choice
of such goods as they may wish to purchase. A large quantity
of the fish disposed of in this market is sold in boxes and
hampers, and it is a condition of the sale that neither quantity
nor quality is guaranteed by the seller. The price of fish
each morning is regulated by the simple principle of supply
and demand. It may be observed that the fish which is
brought to the market in the holds of sailing vessels from
the North Sea does not fetch as good prices as that which
comes by steamboats or by rail. The best fish of all
descriptions are bought up early in the mornings by the fish-
mongers, many of whom come from a distance of thirty miles.
When the supply is large, fish may be bought good and fresh
for considerably less than the original cost, and the same may
be said of all classes of food of a perishable nature.
The people who have not seen and mingled in the motly
mob of which Billingsgate is composed, can form no concep-
tion of its true character. Lower Thames-street over its
whole length is ftdl of all sorts of vehicles, from the hand-
346 Ijife at the Tail of Commerce in London.
cajfc of the costermonger to the light spring-Tan of the
fashionable fishmonger of the West End. The market itself
is bustling with humanity in all possible stages of excitement.
Men^ women, and children are pushing, crushing, bawling,
brawling, laughing, chaffing, cursing, swearing, moaning,
and groaning. Human nature shows itself here under all ita
various characteristics, and, as in the battle of life elsewhere,
the weak and the timid are sure to go to the wall. The
lowest class of dealers are those who speculate in periwinkles
and other moUusks. These are bought in the under-ground
cellars of the market. From sixpence to a shilling's worth
of this class of goods frequently makes up the stock-in-trade
of one of these poor struggling fish-retailers. The genius
who presides over this piscatorial Babel is Mr. Deering, the
market-keeper. This gentleman keeps a record of all the
fish brought into the market, and his duty is to see that
none is exposed for sale if unfit for human food. Since the
advent of steam, the increase of fish in this market has been
almost beyond conception. Instead of the London market
being supplied merely firom the coasts on the east and west of
England, as was formerly the case, fish is now brought firom
the north of Scotland, from Xorway, France, and the west of
Ireland. Although the London market has been well sup-
plied with salmon of late years, the demand for this fish has
increased at so great a rate among the middle classes that the
costermongers seldom or never are able to do anything with
it. The fact is, this fish can scarcely ever be bought in the
market under fourteenpence a pound, and at that price it is
out of the reach of the poor people. Salmon, therefore,
although much more plentiful than it was a few years ago,
may be looked upon as a luxury only within the reach of the
well-to-do members of society.
The costermongers of London are a class of men who are
characterised by social peculiarities of their own. Their
mode of living, amusements, and social arrangements are
all special to themselves. In a place like London, the
Costermongers' institution may be looked upon as a great
public advantage. Through them the humbler members of
society are served at a cheaper rate with many of the articles
in daily use than they could be in shops, and that^ too,
without moving from their own doors.
Many of the itinerant dealers are well-to-do in a worldly
point of view. All the more thrifty members of the class
nave pony or donkey carts, and not a few of them in the
course of time settle down in shops as green-grocers. Take
them as a whole, they are a sober and an industrioas set of
How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind. 347
men. K they spend their money imprudently, it is in their
amusements, and these they will have, come what may.
Those among them who have ponies or donkeys rarely miss
a fine Sunday^s drive into the country. On snch a day we
have seen hundreds of them driving home, joyous and light-
hearted, but seldom the worse for drink.
From what we have said of the people who live at the tail
of commerce in London, it will be seen that they present
many social features of a highly interesting character ; and
when we think of the hard struggle many of them have to
keep soul and body together, we cannot but respect them for
their industry and determined perseverance under great and
trying difficulties. If what we have said in this Paper shall
help to induce the public to think kindly and speak charitably
of these humble human bees, we shall obtain our chief end in
writing it.
HOW ENOCH STYLES CHANGED HIS MIND.
THE village of P., in shire, is a quiet, far-away place.
Set on one hill, and surrounded by others, troublesome
enough to climb, but very lovely to look upon, with their
fringing beechwoods, and hollow combs, and winding mill-
crowned water-courses, that peep out here and there from among
clumps of alders and birches, and appear and disappear like
children playing at hide and seek, among the curves of the
valleys. By the side of one of these water-courses or rivulets,
for they are never large enough to be called by a grander
title, was, not long ago, a pleasant old mill-house, built of
fitone, whose grey walls diapered with moss and gold and silver
lichens, stood beside a broad mill-dam, and were refleoted
morning, noon, and night in its sleepy waters. A high
pitched roof, four gables, mullioned windows, stacks of lozenge
chimneys, and a wide porch, gave the house a look of dignity,
though it was old and time-worn, and its best days had long
been over. The mill had ceased to weave cloth, its first and
honourable employment, when cloth-weaving brought wealth
and pride to the little village perched on the hill above, and
was now, in its humbler days, content to turn raw beechwood
into rounded walkingsticks, or ornamental bedposts j and the
mill-house no longer sheltered the family of a man of wealth
and standing, but crumbled away silently and slowly over the
belongings of a hard-working carpenter^ who had never been
348 Haw Enoch Stales Changed His Mind.
able to gather together much of this world's money. On one
side of the house was a garden, quite as ancient and respect-
able-looking as the house, with long, straight walks, bordered
bj high OTergrown box, and a great vew-tree arbour, thick
and dense, at its further end. In this arbour two joung
pecple were sitting one summer's evening, far too busy in talk
to notice the setting sun, though he made the western sky
glorious with colour, and threw long golden beams into the
arbour to their yery feet, as though to give them a parting
embrace. The two people were a young man and a young
woman, at that period of life when love and a light heart
generally go together. Just now, however, they were both
looking grave enough, and the young man was saying, in a
very earnest tone, ' But you iriU go with me, Mary V
' Yes,' replied Mary, thoughtfuUy. ' I've promised I would^
but it's a very serious thing, and so soon, too !'
' Of course it's a serious thing, and the sooner it's over the
better. I can't see why we shouldn't be married next month,
and sail in a fortnight or so afler. And yet, I don't half like
taking you so far away from those you love. Sometimes I
think I'm very selfish ; but then, you see, it can't be helped ;
can it ? There's my uncle says, " Come, and I'll make a man
of you !" He's no children of his own, and I should be his next
of kin ; he has a large farm, plenty of cattle, and land that the
railway is passing through, rising in value every day. There'll
be quite a city there very soon, and it's a regular healthy
place, couldn't be better, he says. "We're to have a nice new
frame-house that I'll get put up in the spring ; and in the
winter we're to stay at uncle's. It really is a chance that I can't
let slip, no how ; and I am sure you wouldn't wish me to slip
it, would you, Mary ? Here, I may work and work all my
life and never get beyond journeyman's wages; — there, I
shall be a master man at once. I've always been fond of fisurm-
ing, and it's just the life for me, just the life for n*, for you
wul like it as well as I shall, I know. Aunt will be a second
mother to you. She's a nice, motherly body. I used to like
her well when I was a lad. I've told her all about you in my
last letter, and I'm sure she'll make you welcome as flowers
in May !'
' What a queer name the place has,' remarked Mary, after a
short silence. Her heart was too fall of thoughts of the old
friends to talk much of the new ones.
' Well, it has a rather. But then you see it's an Indian
name, called after an Indian girl, Milwaukee, a wild woman of
the woods, I suppose ; I don't know what else it means. There
are a mauy queer names in the States, but they're no worse
How Enoch Styles Chcmged His Mind. 849
for that. All ! it^s a fine country, is America ; there's no
country like it for an active young man to go to, so uncle
says, and I'm sure he's right. There's no taxes, like we have
in England, to pull you down, and people can afibrd to be
independent there. They haven't to cringe and bow to get
work from their betters. Yes, we'll be rich people some day,
and come back to the old place and the old folk, just to show
'em what's what, and take them home with us again, if they
like. You'd like that, Mary ?' And as he said this, he pres-
sed her hand affectionately.
In this way Samuel Halliday was coaxing his intended
bride to leave her father and mother in their old age, and to
go away with him to another country. Twelve months before
he had wished to go, but on naming his desire to Mary^s
father, Enoch Styles, he had been told peremptorily that Mary
must not and should not accompany him, and Mary had said
no also. Very reluctantly he had given up the thought for
awhile, but his uncle had became more urgent, and had made
more tempting proposals to induce him to settle for life at
Milwaukee, and Samuel had been unable to resist. This time
he employed himself in winning over Mary to his side so
decidedly, that she was now willing to wander with him over
the whole world. Father and mother were dear and kind, but
Samuel was dearer still, and what he wished became her wish
also. It was painful to be parted from the friends of her
youth, but it would be much more painful to lose her lover in
a foreign land. Her decision was made ; for better for worse,
in England or in America, she was prepared to spend her life
with him. There was many a pang to be gone through, how-
ever, and Mary, much as she was pleased at the prospect,
could not spesJc with all the enthusiasm of her lover about
future prosperous days and coming wealth. Her heart felt
sorely the anticipatory rending of the old home ties. ^ Let
us go and tell mother,' she said, at last, ^ now you've decided
when you'll go. She ought to know all about it. She will tell
father ; I can't !'
' I'll tell your father, if you like.'
' No, no, best not. Let mother do it. He'll take it more
kindly from her. She knows his ways best. Oh, I am — I
wish it were over !'
' So do I, dear ; but wishing won't make it so. Don't fret.
You'll see your father will take it quite quiet after the first
brush. When he knows it is to be, it'll all come easy.'
Mary could only wish it might, but she shrank from the
trial. It was fortunate, she thought, that her father was out,
and would not be home till a late supper. She would go to
850 How Enoch, Styles Changed Sis Mind*
bed before he returned^ and then he and her mother might
have the secret out together.
While Mary and Samuel were talking in this way in the
arbour, two* men were seated in a small room overlooking the
village churchyard on the hill above, in conversation also.
The room was the reading-room of the Temperance House,
lately opened, and though small and plainly furnished, was
very light and cheerful, and suggestive of quiefc study and
rest, with plenty of books and papers, and pens and ink for
those inclined to make use of them. A few pictures were on
the walls, comfortable chairs were not wanting to draw up to
the long table in the centre, and the great sun that forgot
none in his blessing, entered the room with warm farewell
rays, as he did iu the yew-tree below, and lit up the careworn
face of Enoch Styles, while he argued with his friend the
secretaiy of the Temperance Society. The two friends were
not much alike in person or in mind. Enoch Styles was tall,
and thin, and pale, with iron grey hair smoothly brushed over
his head in thin swathes, with well wrinkled forehead and
cheeks, and with a face that, when at rest, expressed nothing
80 much as a stern sort of melancholy, uninviting to disturb.
Strangers w^uld have passed him by as an undesirable
acquaintance, but they would have done wrong if they had
believed that sternness formed any part of his character.
That stern look was only the result of long years of contest
with the hard world, that had furrowed and moulded the
outer skin, but had not been able to touch the heart with
any hardening process. None of his walkingsticks, when
completed, could well be smoother than his temper, and
perhaps io was on this account that he was chosen as libra-
rian to the little society, his patience and kindliness assisting
very much towards the demand for books, a desirable end to
be attained where a love for reading needed to be culti-
vated amongst men and boys whose only amusements had
been hitherto of a sensuous kind. Mark Greythorn, the secre-
tary, was a much younger man, short of stature, and strongly
built, with rough wiry hair that had been suffered to have its
own way so long in his boyhood, that now it refused all per-
suasion of comb and brush, and grew stiff* and wild, here in
sloping tufts like shocks of corn blown about by the wind,
and there in prostrate layers like com under the flail. There
was much strt»ngth and endurance about him, both of body
and mind. He had made his way through heaps of diflSculties,
to use his own phrase, having had to fight his way upwards
from the most absolute poverty, as the son of a drunken
father, to the position he held now — the keeper of the largest
How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind. 351
OTOcer's shop in the village. He could speak well in public^
kept the books of the society with great accuracy, and was
perhaps the most active man in it. But he was looked upon
as one that was apt to go too fast in his notions, and he and
Enoch Styles had many a friendly controversy on this head.
Horal suasion was Enoch Styles's stronghold ; prohibition was
the goal to which Mark Greythom tended. They were talk-
ing on the relative merits of these two, at the time we .are
speaking of.
'Prevention is better than cure/ Mark Greythom was
aaying, as the two were waiting for other members of the
committee to join them, at the usual fortnightly meeting of
the society.
' Prevention V returned Enoch. ' Does not our Temperance
Society prevent as well as cure? Does not moral suasion
speak to the young and sober as well as to the old and
dbnmken, and prevent much future evil ? What is the mean-
ing of our Band of Hope, if it is not prevention V
* Yes ; but, as Fve said fifty times before, you might prevent
much more than you do at present, if you shut up the
temptation to drink that is perpetually standing open. Think
of more than a dozen such temptations in our little village.
How are John England and Matthew Roper to resist such
temptations long ? They Ve signed the pledge, and are teeto-
talers now, but what will they be in a year from this time ?
Tell me that, Enoch V
* As good temperance men then, as they are now, I hope
and expect. Why, man, you and I would never go into a
public-house to drink, if there were a hundred of them in
P .'
'No, for weVe a pleasanter fireside at home than the
public-house can give us, and our wills are stronger towards
good than those of many poor fellows who haven^t had our
teaching. The temptation isn^t half as strong for us as for
them, who have often to be out in the wet and cold when
they're far from home, and don't know where to shelter, or
when they're near home, and expect to find nothing better
there than a dirty house, and a tribe of noisy children. I'm
sure I don't wonder when I hear of this person and that
going back to the drink and the public-house ; nobody knows
what a strong draw they have towards the bad, who haven't
lived as they live I / know, for I remember old days, and
my father's miserable cottage, and I say that man's a hero
that can keep his feet out of the public-house, when it stands
before him so bright and cosy, and his own poor bit of a place
is most likely just the opposite. Do you know how many of
our members we have lost this last year ?'
852 How Enoch Styles Cha/nged His Mind.
' No, not exactly ; but we must always expect backsliders.
If there were no public-houses you would have those/
^ Not so many of them, no, not by one-half/
^ The good seed will get among the thorns, sometimes/
' But what if there were no thorns ? If they were stubbed
up, and the ground dug over and made ready for the seed ?
If the drink-houses were all shut up, done away with ; and,
instead, we were to have temperance-houses, where men could
get what they wanted without the poison ? There wouldn't
need to be so many of them, I hope ; for I would rather a man
should try to improve his own fireside, than sit away from
home every night in the week at the best temperance reading
and refreshment-house that could be. He'd have apleasanter
fireside when he'd more money to spend there, and so the
benefit would act and re-act. Only let us get Parliament to
allow us to put those nuisances down I'
' That will never be done. It's a fine theory, but it wouldn't
answer.'
^It will be tried some day, mark my words.'
' Your words are always marked/ said another individual
who had just entered the room. ' How can they be anything
else, Mr. Secretary ?' and with a smile at his own pun, the
new comer held out his hand for his friend to shake.
More hand-shaking had to be done presently ; one member
after another of the committee dropped in, and soon there was
a quorum, and the night's proceedings began. The chief
business to be done was to make arrangements for a public
meeting to be held the next week, at which a well-known
lecturer was to give what was expected to be a telling address,
and it was hoped that a number of new converts would be
gained by his efibrts. There had been a number of such
meetings, and the names signed in the secretary's pledge-
book made a long list, a list to rejoice over, to exult about^
were it not for the sad reflection, that already, within a year^
more than one-half of these names were worthless, the signers
having gone back to their old evil habits, some silently, some
with public shame exhibiting their want of faith to all the
world, and throwing open discredit upon the band of temper-
ance reformers, who were attempting to do good to the
neighbourhood. Mark Greythorn was no desponding man,
he was sanguine rather than desponding ; but when he crossed
out one after another of the names of persons he had been so
hopeful about a few months or weeks ago, he became more
and more thoughtful, and said louder and stronger things
against the drink-tempters, the public-houses. Could he but
get these done away with, he might have more hope of hia.
Sow Enoch Styles Changed His Mind. 533
new converts. It was disheartening to think of the losses
that were taking place every week. Now a young lad from
the Band of Hope, who had been tempted with a cup or two
of cider at the Falcon, and now a grey-headed man, who had
been unable to resist the allurements of a pipe and a gossip
at the Golden Heart, to be followed by ale, as his wont had
been in former days of unpledged licence. Everywhere the
public-house, like a ravenous wolf, was tearing and devouring
the carefully-gathered sheep and lambs of the fold. Moral
suasion had done much, but it had not done enough. With
moral suasion must go prevention, as far as prevention was
possible. He proposed on this particular night to add a few
words to the end of the lecturer^s address, on the imperative
necessity for the abolition of all drink-houses.
But the rest of the committee were comparatively timid
men. The population of P— — was small, trade was small also,
and no man could afford to lose one customer. If they pro-
claimed war upon their neighbours the pubHcans, the publicans
would in return proclaim war upon them ; publicans^ wives,
and daughters, and sons would go somewhere else for their
goods, than to tradesmen who talked of prohibiting their
traffic, and not only these, but the friends of the publicans
would go elsewhere too. A strong feeling of animosity would
be raised against the Temperance Society, and especially
against its officers, the committee, and who could tell where
such an inconvenient and dangerous fire would stop ?
' Better not, friend Mark,^ said Enoch, after the daring pro-
posal had been made and succeeded by a short silence. ' We
should have the publicans about our ears.'
' So much the better,' replied Mark, boldly. ^ That's
exactly what we want, we want to make them feel that their
trade is in danger. Till they feel that, our labour is labour
in vain.'
' Better not,' again iterated EnOch Styles. ' On any other
subject we should only be too glad to hear you. Cannot you
be content with moral suasion V
^ No, I cannot be content while there is so much immoral
suasion that manages to preach louder than we do.'
' We should lose much more than wo should gain,' said
another member. ^ Remember, that three out of our fifteen
public-houses belong to the squire, three of the largest, too.
The squire is friendly to us now, and subscribes to our fiinds^
but we should never see another penny of his money, and,
what is more, we should lose his countenance altogether, if we
talked of closing all the alehouses.'
' The whole town would be against us,' said another, de-
Vol. n.—No. 44. Y
354 E.OW Enoch Styles Changed His Mind.
BpondiDgly. ^ And then consider the harm that would be
done by raising a feeling of ill-will. We have now five pub-
licans' children in the Band of Hope; publicans know that
temperance is best for their children, as well as we do. Of
course, we should lose them, and lose all hopes of ever getting
a permanent hold on the parish. We should go out very soon
like the snuff of a candle/
' You mean that we should shine brighter than ever,' said
Mark, rising in courajre and in strength of voice as the op-
position increased. ' Do you like sin so much, my friends^
that you would fain have it about you all your lives ? Are
you such poor friends to temperance that you are afraid of
what intemperance will do if you oppose it ? Do yon think
you can walk well with both God and mammon ? That isn't
possible, let me tell you. The publicans don't oppose us
openly just now, because they see it is to their interest to be
quiet, it wouldn't be reckoned respectable not to help on tem-
perance in appearance, but total abstmence they don't like,
as you all know, and while we are trying to save drunkards,
they are busy making them. And they're not much afraid
of us, as long as they see we don't go to the root of the evil.
It's just like saving at the spigot and letting out at the
bung-hole to try to make people temperate by moral suasion
alone, while the public-houses are enticing young and old
every day to evil habits and destruction. Show your colours,
don't be afraid ! Let our temperance cause be thorough, not
A half-and-half sort of thing. Only yesterday, Daniel Webb
was carried home shamefully drunk, and he was the member
over whom we were all holding such a jubilee three months
ago, looking upon him as a brand plucked out of the fire. I
called in at his house this morning, and he wouldn't see me,
he was so sham'd ; but his wife cried when I spoke to her, she
knew the old bad days were coming again, when Dan would
beat and starve her to get his beer. Now, I say, shut up
the public-houses, or, rather, prohibit the drink, and you
won't have to complain of such snarls in your work as this; we
shall keep our members when we've got them.'
Everybody's eyes turned towards Enoch Styles to answer
this speech. Ho was 'in the chair' at this meeting, and
looked quite a man of importance and authority, as he said,
gravely, ' I remember in the old fable of the sun and the wind,
that the sun had the best of it. The wind of total prohibition
will never remove the drunkard's cloak, but the sun of moral
suasion may. Smoothly and softly wins the day. Don't you
see that we are gradually making way ?'
' One step forwards, and more than half a step backwards/
interrupted Mark.
How Enoch Styles Changed His Mmd. 355
' That the whole place will soon be thoroughly with us. When
everybody has given up drinking, the publicans will be
obliged to shut up their doors/
^ That's as much as to say, when the river has passed by
we may walk over dry-shod/ Mark said again, ^ How can
you ever expect to get your work done, when it comes
nnravelling like Penelope's web that Fve read about?' But
there was a call of ^ order,' and ' listen to the chair,' and Enoch
Styles went on. ^ We shall always be losing a few ; human
nature is human nature, and when I've said that, you know
what I mean ; it's a poor weak thing, always ready to fall
away. Let us go on in our peaceful endeavours to do good,
and we shall win the day at last, without stirring up needless
opposition.'
' That's it — that's just it,' exclaimed the greater number of
those present, well pleased to get this dangerous, unneighbourly
subject put on one side. It would not do for Mark to have
his way, certainly, for if such war to the knife were proclaimed,
no end of trouble would arise.
^ I wish it, nevertheless, to be put to the vote,' said Mark,
sturdily.
But the votes were against him ; only one member of the
committee thought as he did, all the rest were for moral
suasion only.
This public meeting was well attended. The lecturer's
subject was the ' Battle of Life,' and showed the necessity of
fighting against bad habits and weaknesses, if we would
succeed in anything that is noble and good. Especially against
the evil habits of drink it was necessary to fight, and he gave
^a witty account of one particular battle fought against this
habit, by a poor dyspeptic moderate drinker, who had half-
ruined his constitution, but who had at last resolution enough
to make a firm stand, and fight a fierce battle with the enemy,
coming oflf victorious after many wounds and bruises. Six
new converts were the result of this lecture, and as Mark went
home with his book of pledged names in his pocket, Enoch
came up to him, and said, smilingly, ' Where's your faith now ?
Don't you think in this way we shall conquer ?'
' If I were only to use my left hand when I was at work,'
was the answer, ^ I know what my master would say, or at
least what he \vould think, that I was a poor creature. Now,
to-night, we've done a deal for the left hand, but then it's
only the left, and you pat me on the shoulder and want me to
say it's all we can do ; but I can't say that. It's good as far
as it goes, that's all !'
Enoch made a little grimace, as much, aa to ^ay , * TVvaX? 's^
356 How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind.
what I get for asking a grumbler V and, after a friendly
' good night/ went on his way. He met Daniel Webb coming
home with his little cart from G , where he had been selling
fast and spending fast, so that he was little better in pocket,
and much worse in mind and body, for his day^s work ; he was
quite tipsy. A few weeks ago, ho would have been at the
lecture, pleased to hear, and to show his washed and sober
face, and ready to testify that he was quite another man from
the unshavedj unwashed drunkard of times gone by ; but now
he would rather avoid all temperance lectures, they were a
reproach and trouble to him. He was singing, in a thick voice,
a song that expressed a wish to be with some one of the name
of Dinah. But as ho passed Enoch Styles he ceased singing,
and stared at the well-known figure of the man who had per-
suaded him to sign the pledge only three months ago. It
was twilight^ but ho knew him perfectly well, and, with the
familiarity of the drunkard, put out his hand, and said in what
he meant to be a hearty voice, ^ How be you, Mr. Styles ?
Won^t you shake hands with ^un ? Come, now, I shan^t poison,
you ! I be a pledged tee-tota-ler, I be !'
' And a fine one you are ! Aren't you ashamed of yourself,
Dan V
Daniel steadied himself a moment, and stared fixedly at the
reproving friend; he was trying to collect his confused thoughts,
and ho did it in some measure. He looked conscience-stricken
for a moment, and his eyes sank.
^ How is it youS'e broken your pledge V Enoch asked in a
severe voice. ' Call yourself a man ! Why, you're worse than
a child to break your word in this way ! What do you think's
to become of you V
Again Daniel made a great effort to steady himself, but he
was not now abashed. A bold, saucy light had come into his
eyes, as he replied, ^ It's all the publics, sir ! You should go
to them first, they be bound to sell the drink, and I be bound
to take it !' And giving his donkey a blow with a thick stick,
he passed on, and was soon singing again his drunken wish
to * be with Dinah.' Enoch Styles felt disheartened. Those
new converts, might they not also return to their bad habita
and become six sturablingblocks, instead of six helps to the
temperance cause ? Daniel had seemed very sincere in his
reformation. Very thankful to be saved, as he expressed
it. And yet, there he was ! He did not me^ his wife at the
supper-table with quite such a glow of satisfaction as he had
felt upon leaving the lecture-room, and he talked more
moderately of the success of the meeting than he would have
done. Mrs. Styles listened to his account with a serious face.
How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind. 35^
She, too, had a trouble upon her mind, and rather too hastily
she proceeded to unburthen it.
^ And who do you think^s going to America, father V she-
asked abruptly in the first pause.
^ Nay, how can I tell V was his reply. But his heart mis-
gave him as he spoke.
'Mary^s Samuel V
Enoch put down the knife suddenly with which he was
eating, and, turning pale, exclaimed, ^ Don^t toll me that. I
wonH hear it, wife !'
^ But I must tell you. It's all settled, and Mary^s bent upon
going quite as much as Samuel is, so who's to hinder them V
' Who, indeed V Enoch felt that he could not exert fatherly
authority enough to give a positive no to Mary's going this
time. He had allowed her to become engaged to Samuel
Halliday, and this was to be the end of it. Why couldn't
young men be content in their own country J How could
daughters leave fathers and mothers for a foreign shore, to go
with a young man they had known perhaps only a twelve-
month ? It seemed unnatural, till he remembered his own.
youth, and the complacency with which he had taken his wifo
from her kith and kin in Scotland, as great a separation in
those days as was this one proposed for Mary. But it was all
very painful ! So painful, that he ate no more supper that
night, but retired to rest with a heavy heart.
A few days afterwards, Enoch and his daughter were
sitting talking together in the little sitting-room that had
been made to look so ornamental and pretty by Mary's taste
and industry. Curtains, chair covers, even the very table-cloth
had been put together by her skill. Here was the glass of
flowers she had just gathered from the garden ; there the
hand-screens she had manufactured from curious feathers that
she had been collecting for years. The whole room seemed
full of Mary, and her face, as it looked up earnestly to her
father, seemed to belong to and to form part of the inalienable
furniture of the room. It ought never to go away ] never !
never ! Enoch sighed as he thought of the vacancy there
would be when that face was far away.
^ One thing you won't have to be afraid of, father, dear/
Mary said presently, with eyes that glistened with half-sup-
pressed tears, ' neither Sam nor I shall ever be drunkards,
that you know ! We shall keep our pledge-cards, and hang
them up in our parlour when we get one, and talk of you
whenever we see them ; and we shall try to make all that
belong to us teetotalers too.'
* That's a good girl,' said Enoch, huskily.
858 How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind,
' You Bhonld say, Tliat's good children !^ replied Maiy^
smiling. ^ Don't leave poor Sam out of your love, father,
though he is carryiug me away. Fm sure he's fond of you/
^ Perhaps so,' said Enoch, rather unwilling to confess any-
thing but his grudge at Samuel's obstinacy in preferring
Milwaukee to England.
'And you must love him, if you love me, father !'
' If you love me, father !' Enoch repeated the words to
himself. How could she put an if to such a speech at all ?
Had not he loved her morning, noon, and night, every day
and every hour of the day for twenty years, as a father could
love, and now she could say, ' If you love me ! ' But Mary
did not mean to cast the least doubt upon his love ; it was
only her way of pleading for Samuel's share of love, and her
father knew this the next moment. ' Well, well, dear ! ' ho
said, putting his hand on her head and stroking her hair.
' Yes ; but it won^t bo well, well, if you don't love him !
Remember what I say. And you must love him as you lova
me while we're away, and some day, in a dozen years or so,
perhaps, we shall come over again rich folk, and tsJce you and
mother back with us. And Sam's a rare temperance man,
father, and will be preaching it up ; and we shall have quite a
gathering of teetotalers round us for you to see and to visit,
mind if we haven't.'
And thus Mary Styles strove to draw the tendrils of her
father's love and hope round the future in the foreign land
that she thought was in store for herself and her Samuel.
Enoch smiled faintly at the idea of the teetotalers at Milwaukee,
but some way the hope of such a very distant future did not
gather brightness with him. He broke down suddenly, and
murmured in a hoarse voice, ' I shall be in my grave before
then, my lass ! '
Mary rose up and put her arms round his neck. ' No, no,
there is to bo no talk of the grave ; I can't bear that ! No
grave for any of us for a long, long while. We're temperance
people, we are; and temperance folk live long, they say.
You will live long, and I shall live to see you again. If I
didn't think so, I'd never go away ; I wouldn't, indeed !
Kiss me, father, and promise me not to think and talk of the
grave.'
He kissed her, but it was sorrowfully. Sad thoughts would
return now they had risen up, though he strove to put them
away.
In three months Mary and Samuel Halliday were married,
and set sail soon afterwards for America. Enoch accompanied
them to the port from which they were to sail, and saw them
How Enoch Styles Changed His Mind, 859
on board. He had to say good-bye at the same time to his
friend Mark Grey thorn, who was visiting New York to gain
information about machinery for his master's firm, and who
sailed in the same ship, the George Washington. Many
heart-breaking farewells were being said around him, but
Enoch was too much engrossed with his own sorrow to take
more than a slight notice of that of others. There were many
parents in the same position as himself, taking leave wifli
tear-blinded eyes of children they could scarcely hope to see'
again ; friends grasping hands for the last time in mute-
anguish ; lovers parting in despair, while inconceivable hurry
and bustle were everywhere. His heart felt like one great
sore, as from the little boat in which he returned to shore ho
took his last look at Mary standing by the vesseFs side,
between her husband and Mark Grey thorn, waving her hand-
kerchief in farewell, and it seemed to him that the sun would
never shine for him any more.
' We shall see her again, happen, father,^ said Mrs. Styles,,
with a brave attempt at cheering her husband when he reached
home. ^ The ocean isn't so wide but she may cross it again
some day.' It was their great hope, that, and the prospect of
many letters from the beloved one, when she should have
reached her second homo. In the meantime they must wait,
and pray that no wild tempests might meet the onward-
bounding vessel. They scarcely dreamt of any other evil.
But before the surging waves of the Atlantic touched the
vessel's prow, before it was well away from our English coast,
an accident happened that was fatal to the George Washing-
ton. Another steamer came across her path, a collision took
"place, and in a very short time she went down with the greater
part of those on board. A few escaped in the boats, only ten
out of four hundred emigrants were saved, and it became a
time of agonising suspense to friends and relatives till the
names of the saved were published in the public papers, only
to overwhelm the greater part of them with grief. Enoch
Styles read over the list with eyes all but blinded with the
intensity of seeing, but there were no names of Mary and
Samuel Halliday. The terrible truth almost broke his heart,
and he was only saved from madness at first by that beneficent
incredulity that comes to relieve mourners suddenly bereaved.
He felt an utter incapability to believe the extent of the
catastrophe. Mary was alive, had escaped unknown to others,
on some rock or little known coast, and she would come again
to him some day; or her name had been omitted, or changed
in the list. She must be alive ! It was utterly impossible
that he should have lost her so soon ! But as the days went
560 Soxo Enoch Styles Changed Sis Mind,
•on, and no furtter tidings camo, his hope became fainter and
his heart sadder. At last came a letter from his friend Mark
Grey thorn ; he had been among the saved, and though ill for
•some time after the catastrophe, was now well enough to write
fiome particulars of the death of Mary and her husband. Wo
cannot give it all, but we will give some extracts from it.
' After you left us/ it said, ^ the pilot came on board to take
us safely out of the channel, and all went right till the evening
came on. I was standing on the deck, not far from your
daughter and son-in-law, for I had just been talking to them,
when we saw the light of another steamer coming towards
us. We watched it very calmly, for we knew the pilot was at
his post, and we did not doubt that all would be right. But
presently it came so near as to alarm some of the sailors, and
there was a noiso and hubbub, and a great shouting. Some
one said that the pilot was drunk and did not know what he
was about, but before we could well look round, the collision
took place. It was an awful crash, and when we got clear of
the other vessel, I heard the captain say that the vessel must
sink, water was pouring in below in torrents. Two boats
were got out, and I tried to reach one of them. There was
no time to spare, so shouting to Samuel and Mary to follow
my example, I threw myself into the sea, towards one of the
boats that was just being cleared away, and was fortunate
enough to reach it. Your daughter was too terrified to leap
overboard, and Samuel would not go without her. We had
but just time to get clear away before the vessel went down,
and all on board of her were drowned. I besought the men
in the boat to row a little way back, in hopes of picking up
some poor creature or other, but they said we were too full
already. * * * How shall I comfort you, my dear friend ?
These are sad tidings for a father^s heart; but God will
comfort you. * ♦ * If there had been no drink-house
in S , the seaport, the pilot would, no doubt, have been
sober, and we should have been saved. They say he had been
drinking at a public-house, close by the water-side, for the best
part of the day, and I have no doubt that this was true. At
the inquest, it was proved that he was confused and not
himself; indeed, it was proved that he was far from sober.
Now, what safety is there for human life, when a pilot has a
public-house set open for him, close by the water-side, to entice
him to drink and lose his faculties V
There was much more in the letter, stating, amongst other
things, that Mark was sailing for America by another steamer,
which, it was to be hoped, would have a sober pilot on board ;
but Enoch, when he read and re-read the letter, in the days
Selections.
361
after the first great shock, attended most to the remark abont
the open public-house. A new light dawned upon him with
his great sorrow, and he saw that if the drunkenness of Eng-
land is ever to be seriously checked or reformed, it must be
by stern prohibition of the sale of intoxicating drinks, as well
as by moral suasion. Hand in hand the two may change the
moral aspect of our country, and that before this generation
has passed away ; singly, they can only meet with defection
and discouragement.
When Mark returned from his American visit, he found a
warm helper in Enoch Styles ; and the two worked with a
will at the task of enlightening the villagers of P , and the
inhabitants of the neighbourhood, on the necessity of removing
temptations to drink, as well as persuading them to self-
denial. Enoch Styles is not now ashamed or afraid to be called
a prohibitionist.
SELECTIONS.
IN GAOL.
The late Mr. Samuel Hall, of nefari-
ous memory, is supposed to have passed
through every phase and stage of prison
experience before surrendering his life
on the halter of his country. We pro-
pose to select such passages of his event-
lul biography as will fit well together,
and, when so fitted, form a representa-
tion or picture of gaol life in England.
Some interest cannot fail to be awakened
in connection with such a theme, if it
is considered bow large a portion of the
Tital energy and working strength of
the nation is at all times under penal
restraint ; how indispensable as safety-
Talves in these high-pressure times our
Houses of Correction have become ; how
costly, and yet how unsatisfactory in
result to society at large, our system of
punitive discipline is; or, finally, if with
due humility of mind we reflect how
easily and how soon in this world of
temptation and suspicion and falsehood
the great iron doors may separate our-
selves from the sunshine, sweet air, and
free life of the virtuous and the for-
tunate.
Improvidence (as some called it) or
misfortune (as he persisted in styling it)
brought Mr. Hall acquainted with the
Sheriff very early in life, or rather with
the oflRcers of the Sheriff, for the
oriqinal Mr. Hall's personal interview*
with that distinguished functionary were
postponed to the day when he was tried
at the assizes, and the early misty morn-
ing, when he paid his last great debt —
the Sheriff being there present in pro^
pn'd pergond to give him a quittance.
Arrested by the authority of her
Majesty's immediate servant and repre-
sentative, Samuel found himself sud-
denly, and for a lengthened season,
deprived of that liberty which he had
already begun to turn into licentiousness.
He became an inmate of the debtor's
ward of the county prison, with nothing
in the world to do, and precious little
to eat. Time hung heavily on bis
hands, and his little soul, ill supplied
from without, devoured its scanty store
of virtue as the fevered body devours
its own fat. He had a few friends who
remembered him in his retirement, but
it would have fared better with him in
the long run if they had forgotten him.
362
Selections.
Their small kindnesses to a brother in
adversitj had the effect of making that
brother a slave to vice for life. Once
free of the debtor's ward, he appears
to have entered forthwith on a career
•which was to bo interrupted only by
intervals of retirement within the same
prison, but in other wards. We will
follow him through one or two courses
of imprisonment; but as the Sam Hall
of fiction is vastly more amenable to
the beneficial efl*ects of discipline than
most of the hundred thousand Sam
Halls who continually do crowd our
gaols, we shall present him to our
readers, as we snould wish all real
criminals to become — penitent, re-
formed, and even thankful.
Sam has been to sea. Sam has come
home to his black-eyed Susan, and has
given her a black eye which Nature
never gave and none but womanly
nature would endure without revenge.
He has spent all his money in frolic
and folly. lie finishes up by running
his ship and breaking his articles.
Hunted out in pretty quick sticks, he
is hauled before the bench and sentenced
to a fortniglit's imprisonment in the
House of Correction. He does not
much like it; he thinks the county gaol
ifi preferable. When free he takes to
an amphibious trade — say that of a
"ggcP- Riggers appear to require many,
very many more * goes ' of rum than
men in other occupations; at any rate,
Sam finds it necessary to spend all his
wages in that one article of consump-
tion ; and the upshot is, that he loses at
one and the same time his appetite for
food and the means of supplying that
appetite if he had one. The craving
for drink rages within his poor wasted
body, and destroys his soul. He be-
comes sly as well as cruel. He sells
everything he can lay his hands on in the
shape of furniture; then his own clothes,
then his wife's, then he robs the little
ones of theirs, stealing the Sunday
jacket, cape, boots, cap, gloves, prayer-
books and Testaments, with which little
Bam and Susy were wont to figure as
choristers and Sunday scholars. When
he has ' spent all,' his wile and children
leave him. Dismal delirium seizes him.
He resolves to tie himself to a stake in the
tideway, and await his doom. But a
chum hails him, tells him he is a gloss
too low, forbids him ever to say 'l)ie,'
and stands a large quantity of the
favourite beverage. Emboldened thus,
Samuel resolves to exert bis conjugal
authority. He ferrets out bis wife's
hiding-place, surprises her in the dili-
gent pursuit ol her new calling as a
washerwoman, snatches up a flat iron,
and lays her liead open. Now, any
man is at liberty in tliis glorious country
to break his wife's heart. Policemen
themselves, and even magistrates,
have been kr.own to do it. The head
of a poor woman belongs to the parish,
thougli her heart is he7 own or her hus-
band's, and the consequences to the
head-breaker are highly inconvenient.
Next morning, while doing his best to
hoist a main-yard into its place, a gen-
tleman in blue (B 4, in fact) comes
behind him, and in serious tones in-
forms him that he his • wanted.' B«-
monstrance is in vain, resistance is not
to be thought of. He is conducted to the
cells of the police station, to ruminate
on the romance of wedlock, and to frame
special pleas of defence ready for the
next morning. At ten o'clock on the
following day he is ushered into the
court, and gainsays the eloquent testi-
mony of the gory bandages on Susan's
brow by allegations that she has a
tongue of her own and knows how to
use it. When he finds the Bench
obdurate he begins to bubble, and
Susan melts and pleads, and believes as
on their bridal day in the sincerity of
her husband. But justice is blind,
except to gory bandages, and deaf to all
promises of amendment The offendsr
must be imprisoned for two months in
the County Gaol. His commitment is
speedily made out by the clerk, and
signed by the presiding magistrate.
Sam goes back to his cell until the
business of the court is concluded,
and then, with others in the like case, he
is handcuffed and marched off to the
station. A huge rabble of woman-folk
follow hooting. He winces under
their bitter taunts, and his manacled
wrists acne from the spasmodic twitches
of his clenched fists. He would
willingly take another month in ex-
change for five minutes' immediate
liberty of hands and feet amongst the
gabbling, cliattering crowd. The more
willingly because he knows that an extra
month or so would entitle him to a
better dietary scale. Arrived at the
castle gate, his application for admis-
sion is promptly responded to. He ia
introduced into the office, where his
name, deecription of personal ap-
pearance, nature of offence, and terms
of punishment according to the senteDce
Selections,
\
363
are accurately set down. Here, too, he
ia questioned as to loose cash, trinkets,
watch, or other personal property of
which poor Sam has long ago dispos-
aeased himself, as we have seen. Then
a bell is rung and a turnkey appears, to
whom the prisoner is handed over.
The policeman in attendance heaves a
sigh of relief us he pockets the receipt
for tLe body of Samuel Hall, misde-
meanant, and adjourns for beer and
tobacco till next train. Samuel is con-
ducted to the bath-room, where lie
undergoes compulsory ablution ; much
needed, no doubt, and typical, we trust,
of the thorough cleansing he is about to
experience in his moral nature. He
exchanges his ragged wrap-rascal, his
Tillanou:iIy unclean undcr-linon, his
brimless old beaver, and clouted shoes,
for the prison livery of melancholy grev,
with an Aberdeen bonnet for a head-
piece. His own apparel is ticketed and
stored ready against the day of his
release. He is known no more as the
Christian Samuel Hall, but as No. 260,
in the sad rank and file of evil-doers,
and when he has traversed the whole
range of the corridor, he mounts a
winding iron stair to a gallery, which
runs outside the doors to a higher storey
of cells. When about to mount the
staircase he casts one swift glance from
the central hall, along the sides of
which, and above, the various ventilating
and smoke Hues are collected into a
common shaft Is there a chance of
escape? Four long corridors branch
off Irom this centre, and a watchman
stationed there can command a sweep-
ing view of all the corridorji, which are
glistening with cleanliness and light, so
that if a mouse were to cross the line of
Tision it would be seen in an instant,
and an alarm with a rattle or bell would
bring a score of warders, brave and
strong, to capture the sly runaway.
There is no hope, then. Here is No.
2^: There is an iron door secured
from without by bolt and lock ; in this
door there is a little trap which cannot
be opened from the inside, but readily
enough, though not quite noiselessly,
from without. Formerly meals were
furnished through this aperture, and
espionage was maintained. In the trap-
door itself is an eyehole, which is
covered with a sliding button, and
through this chink the warder on duty
can peep, and often does peep, without
the inmate knowing anything about it.
Several times in the course of each day,
and oftener in cases of suspicion, the
prying eye of the turnkey takes cogni-
sance of the state of matters in the cell.
Next morning, at half- past five, the
bell rings long and loud, and Mr.
Samuel remembers the rule of his new
abode, leaps from his cool and narrow
couch, draws water from his little
wooden keg on the shelf into his tin
hand-basin, and washes away the small
modicum of dirt that has accumulated
since his initiatory bath the night t)efore.
He then addresses himself to his, task,
if he arrived in time to have his work
allotted to him, or he waits, lugubrious,
till the breakfast bell is heard. Then
he is all alive. He stands beside the
door ready and hungry. In a few
minutes after eight his door is flung
open, and he pounces on his breakfast,
wnich is placea at the threshold. A little
allowance is jnade at first, perhaps, bat
he soon finds that it is altogether a
touch-and-go manoeuvre, for the second
turnkey is close behind the first, and he
loses very little time in closing the door.
Breakfast consists of a mess of oatmeal
porridge and a small quantity of milk,
served in a tin with two compartments.
This portion of his daily duty is by
no means onerous, but it is a new sensa-
tion for poor drunken Sam to be un-
commonly hungry — it is the first sign
of recovered tone and rudimentary stage
of sobriety — the full belly is a reward
that is reserved for steady perseverance
in virtue. He of course acts as his own
chambermaid, and besides making his
bed and hooking it up against the wall,
that it may offer no temptation to indo-
lent indulgence in the course of the day,
he has to perform all the minute opera-
tions which are necessary, including, we
are glad to know, the obvious ope of
opening his well-barred window for a
Volume of fresh air. After breakfast
his cell door is thrown open, and he is
taken to the yard for a spell of walking
exercise. Here he sees his brethren in
bonds, but is allowed to speak to none.
When he has moulted a few times as a
gaol-bird, which will never be Sam's
case, and become expert in the wilra of
the devil, ho will be able to ventrilo-
quise a few observations for the edifica-
tion of tho^ nearest him. Turnkeys
are trained lynxes^ and if so much as a
lip is moved the offence is noted down,
and if often repeated will end in the
refractory one spending a day and a
night in the dark cells on bread and
water. In some prisons the exercise
364
Selections.
wag, and perhaps still is, almost a part
of the punish meat. The men ^^ere
stationed at intervals round the yard,
and they had to play at 'keppy-ball'
with a twenty-four pound cannon shot.
This was play to the stalwart rogue, but
it was terrible task-work for the feeble.
Here, however, there is nothing but the
regular walk round and round till the
bell rings for chapel, at about twenty
minutes past nine. Elsewhere, the
separate system is carried even into the
ohapel, and the auditorium has a comical
appearance, something like a honey-
comb with grey worms in every cell.
Here the only separation is between the
sexes. The good behaviour of a con-
gregation of criminals is proverbial, and
tlie silent, fixed attention to the service
might be studied as an example by
many fashionable audiences that we wot
of, with palpable advantage. After
chapel, the^ march back to the yard.
During their first visit to the yard, the
governor, probably accompanied by the
chaplain, has inspected their vacant
cells, but now he meets his whole family
and asks if any of them wish to speak
to him. If anyone has a request or
complaint to make he stops forth from
the rank. Every man brings wi h him
into the yard his breakfast panakin,
and holds it bottom up for ins}>ection,
and as he marches round drops it on an
appointed tray. Each man also pro-
duces from his inner-breast pocket (his
only one) his spoon, his small-tooth
comb, and ridding comb, displayed on
his pocket-handkerchief.
The next stage is the calling out of
those who, being under sentence of hard
labour, are to take their turn on the
mill. They will have two hours of it,
with a rest of twenty minutes in each
hour. The crank system was intended to
supersede the treadmill. By this method
each cell was provided with a crank
and a tell-tale, and the prisoner had to
pump three thousand or more strokes
a day ; originally all this power was
collected by connecting machinery with
the prison water-raising apparatus, but
in some cases this power was wholly
wasted. The exertion was considerable ;
indeed, where it has been tried and
abandoned, it has been found to be
cruelly injurious to health, besides
being: absurd as part of a discipline
which is to fit men for useful, honest
toil. Shams are immensely demoralis-
ing, but nowhere are they so deleterious
as in theeocietyof the already degraded.
Those who are not sentenced to hard
labour have, nevertheless, their doily
tasks assigned, which must be done, or
the governor will endeavour to know
the reason. Tailors and shoemakers
may often be set to work patching and
cobbling. Cocoa-nut matting is worea
in a proper loom by some. The
majority, however, are employed in
making ship fenders or in teasingoakum.
There is oakum and oakum — wet and
dry. The former has been steeped and
beaten with mallets, and now eight
pounds of it is given to each to take
with him to his cell ; only four pounds
of dry tarry rope, cut in short lengths,
is given out. Men do say they would
rather do eight wet than four dry.
Away back to the cell with the bundle
of task work under bis arm, and thence*
forth, from about ten to twelve, he
teases his rope-ends into oakum. At
twelve the welcome bell peals forth the
dinner-time. Three times a week he
gets a dry dinner, that is a mouthful or
two of good meat, ox cheek for the most
§art, with bread and potatoes. Three
ays he gets soup, which in some
prisons is better than in some work-
houses. On Saturday there is a change,
generally boiled rice with treacle. At
one o'clock the bell rings to work again,
and the busy fingers untwist and pick
till half past five, when supper is serTed,
consisting of porridge and milk. From
six to seven work again, or even later if
the tale is incomplete. At seven thero
is a general knock-off till bed -time at
nine. This must bo a dull time for
some. If they do not go to school, and
have no taste for reading, they walk up
and down their narrow habitation till
they weary for bed. Each coll has*
§ as-light. The turnkey comes round at
usk, turns on the gas outside, and
hands a light in through the trap.
Books are provided, especially the Book
which it most becomes the convicted
criminal to consult. But it is a weary
time for many. When the nine o'clock
bell begins to toll the hour of rest,
down comes the bed from the hook in
the wall, out goes the gas, and Samuel
pops under the counterpane with al-
most indecent hurry, to dream that
Susan had fiung a flat-iron at him, and
that she, poor soul, was serving her
time for the same, while he was boosing
in all jolly good-fellowship with hit'
mates and friends.
So on, day by day, unless a fit of the
cholic brings him under the doctor, or
Selections,
365
a fit of the spleen brings hitn to the dark
oelk, the dpoarj regularity of prison life
drags on. Every morning the turnkey
makes a pioneering round, calling out
* Anybody wanta the doctor ? ' and if
Samuel is really bad, or wants to try the
game of old soldiering or malingering,
be must promptly make known bis
wants. Tne doctor visitd him, and, as
a rule, orders him to have a daily doso
from the cure-all mixture, known, par
excellence^ as the Doctor's Bottle. If
he is taken ill in the night, his Toice, in
the deep silence, will easily reach the
warder on night-duty. Each ward has
one such watchman ; and to ensure his
vigilance or to record his negligence, he
has to Tisit a toll-tale clock of curious
construction once every hour. There is
not much chance of fire in a stone-jug,
but there are abundant appliances in
tbe shape of engines, buckets, and hose
in case of danger. But very insignificant
■ as a rule, are the interruptions to the
dull routine of the gaol. On Saturdays
there is a weekly change of linen, and a
fortnightly change of flannels. On Sun-
days there is chapel twice; and upon
the whole, the worship is an acceptable
holiday to most, if nothing more. To
our Samuel, however, it proved some-
thing more. It made him a praying
Samuel. The kindly chaplain never
wearies, never faints, though much dis-
couraged. He knows that ho is speaking
to the olTscouring of the earth, to the
ohief of sinners, to the hardest*hearted
of men. the most shameless and profli-
gate of women, but he has too often
witnessed the mighty victories of truth
and love to furl the banner of the Cross
and lay aside the golden trumpet of the
sanctuary before any form of evil, how-
ever dire and deadly. Samuel listens,
as one making the best of compulsion,
trying to persuade himself that he is at
church because he likes it, and the very
oontcust between the gentle remonstrance
or puthetij pleadmg of the pulpit and
the narsh tones of command or rebuke
in which his task-masters and gaolers
address him, bends his mind favourably
to the * ways of pleasantness and peace.'
He secretly resolves that he will amend
his ways when once he gets out. He
will come there no more, by God's good
help, but he will never regret coming
once. Poor Samuel ! be has not been
accustomed to the manufacture of good
resolutions, and he has yet to learn how
frail thev are ; but a good resolution in
a wicked heart is like a draught of sweet
air in a loathsome den. There is a win-
dow or door that will open, and it is a
door of hope, and there is good pure air
somewhere about. Good resolves are the
first steps in the right direction. Samuel
nursed his young purposes of good by
reading, reflection, and prayer, and when
a thoughtless turnkey asked him how
soon he would be back again, he even
wept to think that such a thing was pos-
sible. On the last day of his term, when
the governor called on those who had
anything to say to him to stand out,
Samuel stretched himself to his full
heiglit, and with the manliness of a man
all but free, he gave the governor to
understand that he too had a tell-tale
clock inside his brain, *and could check
the prison calendar on occasion. His
request was that he might be allowed to
leave as early as possible. A natural
wish, in any case, but a aensiUo one in
Samuel's, as he had a long walk before
him. There is a slight tendency towards
S'ving the screw an extra turn on the
Bt day, as regards work, or it may be
only the fancy of the impatient'prisoner.
Bright and early, and with the first
kindly smile seen in the gloomy building,
the turnkey unlocks the oell-door for
the last time, and conducts S. No. 260
to the office, where after getting, as best
he can, into his old rags, which he prizes
more highly than the comfortable wool-
lens of his house of bondage, he is
formally dismissed with a gratuity of
sixpence, into the wide, wide world, free
to fling flat irons once more at his wife,
if so minded, unless bound over to keep
the peace for a term ; free, also, to starve,
or beg, or steal, or perchance work, if
he can persuade anyone to employ him.
As our friend Sara has thoroughly
made up his mind that the next time
he goes to prison it shall be in the
capacity of a visiting justice, he has no
complaint to make on the score of
severity. On the contrary, he is busied
just now with some crude speculations
about a proper classification of crimes
and criminals, a pre-established har-
mony between offences and punish-
ments. He thinks, moreover, that gaols
should be nearly self-sustaining. He
would have it understood that a man
should work loqger hours in prison
than out of it ; that he should work for
his ordinary wsfes at his ordinary trade
(when practicable), that he should pay
for his board, lodging, and washmg,
and the balance sboold be equalij
divided into a weekly ^a» for the maiii-
366
Selections,
tenanco of the prison staff, and a weekly
inBtalnient towards a fund for setting
him up in an honest way when he
comes out. Very crude, of course, but
we may some day show from the
experience of a most excellent society
for giving aid to discharged prisoners
that there is room for reform in this
direction, and we have only to appeal
to the frightful increase of habitual
criminality to support our Samuel's
notion that crimes must have punish-
ment weighed and measured to meet
them, ir stead of criminals being incar
cerated for a longer or shorter period,
under penal conditions which are exactly
the Fame for all. There is indeed, a
classification of felons and non-felonious
criminals, but that is far from sufficient,
and we shall never pet a comfortablD
garotting grip on crime till we hare
more consideration paid to the propor-
tion, in kind, between crime and its
penalty. We pooh-poohed friend Sam's
suggestion, of cour^se, for fear of making
him proud ; but if he come9 to be a
visiting justice or member of Parliament,
he will prove a i^econd Sir Joshua Jebb.
Expenentia docet, — Newcastle Weekly
Chronicle,
THE EMPLOYMENT OF CLIMBING BOYS.
The master chimney-sweepers of
Bradford have formed themselves into
a kind of vigilance committee to put
down tlie practice of employing boys to
sweep chimneys by some of their num-
ber, contrary to the provisions of the
Act of Parliament, which specially inter-
dicts boys being employed for this pur-
pose. Section 6 of the Act enacts that
no child under the age of 10 shall be
employed about the premises of any
person following the business of a
chimney-sweeper, the penalty in this
instance being imprisonment. Section
7 specifies that a master sweep shall
not allow a boy under the age of 16 to
enter a house with him when he is going
to sweep a chimney ; an infringement of
this section rendering him liable to a
penalty not exceeding £10. Section 10
throws the onus of proving the age of a
boy employed on the person accused of
committing the offence. Mr. Henry
Hibbert, chimney-sweeper, of Abbey-
street, Bradford, wrote to the Earl of
Shaftesbury on the subject, and his
lordship, in reply, dated November 25,
1868, alludes to the two Acts he had
got passed on the subject, the last Act
eing the result of the report of the
Children's Employment Commission,
1863. He continues, *Tlie provisions,
I regr<»t to say. have been much evaded.
There is a difficulty in obtaining ade-
quate evidence, and the evidence, when
obtained, is frequently rendered of no
avail by the strange decisions of the
magistrates before whom it is brought
I will take care that a copy of the Act
shall be sent you, and you may rely
on my giving you all the aid in my
Sower. I am happy to say, for the
onour of tlie country, that Parliament
has interdicted the practice with heavy
penalties. It is sad and disgraceful in
the extreme that people of good con-
dition in life should be found in good
numbers, wartonly, knowingly, and wil-
fully to break the law, and to perpetrate,
perhaps, the lowest and most degrading
form of cruelty among all the devices
for torturing mankind. Bradford, I
regret to say, is not the only town guilty
of this offensive conduct, it having been
seen at Nottingham and many other
places, while London, with its three
millions of inhabitants, is free from the
stain. I would recommend the pre-
sentation of petitions to both Houses of
Parliament/
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE'S ADVICE TO WOMEN.
[The subjoined letter has been ad-
dressed by Miss Nightingale to an
American gentleman : — ]
London, September 13, 1866.
To Lemuel Moss.
' My dear Sir,— I could not do what
■ * me to do in your kind letter
y^: gifo you information
about my own life: though if I could it
would be to show you how a woman of
very ordinary ability has been led by
God— by strange and unaccustomfd
paths — to do in His servire what He id
m her*8. And if I could tell you all,
yon would see how God has done all,
and I nothing X have worked hard
Selections.
367
Tery hard — that is all — and I have never
refused God anything; though, being
naturally a very aliy person, most of my
life has been distasteful to me. I have
no peculiar gifts. And I can hone?tly
assure any young lady, if she will but
try to walk, she will soon be able to
run the 'appointed course.* But then
she must first learn to walk, and so
when she runs she must run with
patience. (Most people don't even try
to walk.)
1. But I would also say to all young
ladies who are called to any particular
vocation, qualify yourselves for it as a
man does for his work. Don't think you
can undertake it otherwise. No one
should attempt to teach the Greek
language until he is master of the
language ; and this ho can become only
by liard study. And
2. If you are called to man's work,
do not exact a woman's privileges — the
privilege of inaccuracy, of weakness, ye
muddleheads. Submit yourselves to the
rules of business, as men do, by which
alone you can make God's business
succeed ; for He has never said that He
will give His success and His blessing
to inefficiency, to sketching and un-
finished work.
3. It has happened to me more than
once to be told by women (your country-
women), * Yes, but you had personal
freedom ?* Nothing can be well further
from the truth. I question whether
God has ever brought anyone through
more difficulties and contradictions than
I have had. But I imagine these exist
less among you than among us, so I
will say no more.
4. But to all women, I would say,
look upon your work, whether it be an
accustomed or an unaccustomed work,
as upon a trust confided to you. This
will keep you alike from discouragement
and presumption, from idleness and
from overtaxing yourself. Where God
leads the way He has bound Himself to
help you to go the way. I have been
nine years confined a prisoner to my
room from illness, and overwhelmed
with business. (Had I more faith —
more of the faith which I profess — I
should not say * overwhelmed,' for it is
all business sent me by GK>d. And I
am really thankful to Him, though my
sorrows have been deep and manv, that
He still makes me to do His busmess.)
This must be my excuse for not having
answered your questions before. Nothing
with the approval of my own judgment
has been made public, or I woula send
it I have a strong objection to sending
my own likeness for the same reason.
Some of the most valuable works the
world has ever seen, we know not who
is the author of; we only know that
GK>d is the author of all. I do not
urge this example upon others ; but it
is a deep-seated religious scruple in
myself. I do not wish my name to
remain, nor my likeness. That God
alone should bo remembered, I wish.
If I could really give th? lessons of my
life to my countrywomen and yours —
(indeed, I fain look upon us as all one
nation) — the lessons of my mistakes as
well as of the rest — I would ; but for
this there is no time. I would only say
work — work in silence at first, in silence
for years — it will not be time wasted*
Perhaps in all your life it will be the
time you will afterwards find to have
been best spent ; and it is very certain
that without it you will be no worker.
You will not produce one 'perfect
work,' but only a botch in the service
of God. — Pray believe me, my dear air,
with great truth, ever your faithful
servant, Flobence Nightikoals.
Have you read B iker's * Sources of
the Nile,' where he says he was more
like a donkey than an explorer ? That
is much my case, and I believe is that of
all who have to do any unusual work.
And I would especially guard young
ladies from fancying themselves like
lady superiors, with an obsequious
following of disciples, if they undertake
any great work.
SCENES IN A NIGHT ASYLUM.
[A correspondent of the Glasgow
Ueraffi gives an interesting account of
the Ni^iht Asylum in that town.]
It was Saturday evening, between six
and seven o'clock, when I made my
way to the main door of the institution.
On gaining admittance, I found myaelf
in a wide lobby or entrance hall, where
thirty or forty men, women, and chil-
dren were seated in rows on wooden
benches, waiting for the preliminary ex-
amination. They were of all a^^&^t'c^^s^
368
Selections.
in fancy to threesoore years and ten ; and
of all aorig^ from the inveterate tramp
to the respectable tradesman out of em-
ployment, and without the means of
paying for a night's lodging. Home of
tlioin were clad in decent working clothe?,
fomo were half-naked, and not remark-
able for cleanliness), while a few looked
for all the world like galvanised bundles
of rag« ! All the children, most of the
women, and three or four of the men,
were barei'uotod ; and as the day liad
boon culd and wet, the poor creatures
wore •drookir,' and apparently thank-
ful to have a roof oyer their heads.
ticTcn o'clock wtruck, and then the order
wan given to begin. The door opened,
and in came a niiddlc'pgcd woman with
a dirty face, bare arms, and a mutch on
her head tho colour of saffron. She
was Bccum])anied by three children from
iix to ten years of ago, and the poor
things were wet, dirty, ragged, and
shivering with cold. The mother lived
and HUjiported her progeny by washing
Mtairs and odd jobs of tl^at description,
but Mjmetirues the work failed, and £>ho
sought shelter and a supper of porridge
ill the Night Asylum. Sue was admitt^,
and then came eovcral single women
piorly clad, and of various ages from
M) to 40. One of them had been in tho
Infirmary, and was out of cir.ployment ;
a second had newly arrived in Glasgow
in search of a situation ; a third had an
infant in her arms about three weeks
old, and its face was not much larger
tlian tho dial of an ordinary watch. A
family party camo next, consisting of
the father, mother, and two girls aged
five and seven years. Tho father was a
decent-looking Engli^h mechanic, from
Cumberland; tho mother was a Dundee
woman ; and the little girls had faces
tliat would have adorned any fireside in
the West End. There they stood, wet
and weary, cold and hungry, that family
party of four ; but they were not with-
out hope. The man had succeeded in
iinding work, and he only wanted shel-
ter atid a little support till Monday
morning, which was granted. They pas-
mul in, and were followed by a 'palo,
a'U'nuated woman and three small chil-
dt'-n, Khfi had lost her hueband about
nil week* before, and now she had neither
a lirrnd-winTior nor a home, and yet she
eould not bear the idea of entering a
|f<KirhouiM). Hho was very th nly olad,
whiUi thtt children were literally half-
9Uikm\, Tiiey hud somj kind of * orra
illlliiiai ' ruuud tbo middle, but head,
feet, legs and arms were bare, and fully
exposcil to the bitter blast The mother
had a melancholy, careworn expression
of countenance ; the two youngest chil-
dren were crying, and altogether the
§roup formed a picture of poverty and
estitution which might have melted the
heart of a whinstone. Pass in the poor
widow and her three fatherless children ;
and whom have we next? A barlr
Englishman, from Lancashire, in search
of a job as a miller of malleable iron.
He was stout, black as a negro, and
nearly fifty years of age. He had work-
ed for a long time in Lanarkshire, when
the iron trade was roaring, and had
earned three or four pounds a week as
easy as winking. * Them was the times,'
when beef and beer were going in
'rounds* and buckets, and when h«
could afford to swallow his two bottles
of whisky per day. But now, alas ! ho
was left without a morsel to eat or a
drop to drink, or a hand's turn to do,
and his suit of seedy black was so di-
lapidated by age and ill-usage that it
scarcely served to cover the nakedness
of the wearer. It was a sad change,
indeed, and yet the heart of the iron-
miller was proof against fate. He was
evidently a 'happy-go-lucky* fellow —
one of the careless, improvident tribe
who make the day and the way alike
long, and who comfort themselves by
singing, * Then let the world jog along
as it will, 1*11 be free and easy still,*
and so on till the end of the chapter.
Wet though he was, he could not re-
strain his jocularity ; and as his pockets
were innocent of her Majesty's image,
either in silver or bronze, he was handed
a ticket, and passed in. Next came a
* character,' in the shape of an elderly
maiden, covered with a coal-scuttle bon-
net, a shabby-looking shawl, and a gown
of a dingy colour, considerably the worse
for wear. Her fiice was bronzed by ex-
posure to the weather, and rather long,
wrinkled, and hatchet-shaped tobeoon-
sidercd homely. She carried in her
hand a battered tin box, about the size
of a family Bible, in whicn she had
hawked, ribbons, lace, and 'gnm-
fiowers ' in her better days. She was
now a confirmed 'tramp,* however, and
had lately travelled to London and back
again on foot, lodging and feeding by
the way in the casual wards of work-
houses, and knocking out life in astrange
species of freedom, begeary, and inde-
pendence. The old lady had lived a
fortnight in London, free-gratis, by shift-
Selections.
369
ing her quarters to a different workhouse
every night. She expatiated on the
treatment she had received in tlie va-
rious houses on the route, and gave the
palm to Birmingliam Union for its
'broth and its breed.' I got so inter-
ested in the old ladj's adventures that I
quite forgot myself and asked her what
business took her to London, and she
shut me up in a moment by saying —
* Aweel, sir, ye* re there, and yo'll no find
cot the secrets o' my business ! ' She
passed muster. After the London tra-
veller came a sailor — a fine young man
about five-and-twenty, with a face the
yery picture of simplicity and good-
nature. He had lanaed at Leith from
New Orleans with £17 in his pocket,
got upon the * spree/ and was cleared
out in three or four days. Then he sold
his ' kit,' and set off on the tramp to
South Shields to look for a ship. On
reaching North Berwick he changed his
mind and made bis way to Glasgow,
where he arrived on Saturday night,
without a penny in his purseand nothing
in the shape of property except the clothes
in which he stood, and a sueath-knife.
Poor Jack saw and admitted his folly
with a blush, which was half a smile,
and then he got his ticket. A grey-
haired grandmother came next, and her
daughter, a young good-looking girl of
seventeen, at her side. The uirl was
the mother of the infant, and she, I am
Borry to say, had been first betrayed and
then deserted. The old woman had seen
better days as a wealthy farmer's daugh-
ter in Galloway, and even now, in
wretchedness and tattered clothing, she
had the undeniable look of honesty in
her face. When questioned upon her
early history, the poor woman fairly
broke down and cried like a child, and
I am candid enough to confess that I
was also getting soft in the head by
such an accumulation of misery. *'Twere
long to tell and sad to trace ' the various
bits of broken lii story that were narrated
in the Night Asylum on Saturday even-
ing. In the space of tliree hours, 139
persons — men, women, and children —
passed before me and were admitted ;
and all, except the very young in charge
of adults, had to give an account of
thcmselvej. Tlioy came from different
parts of the three kingdoms, save one
seaman — a hearty little black-a-viced
fellow, who hailed from the island of
St. Helena. There was a heart-broken
weaver from Ayrshire, in search of a
web ; and an engine-fitter, who had tra-
velled on foot all the way from Preston,
in Lancashire. There werj two colliers
from Newcastle, who had walked bare-
footed from Sanquhar in one day, and
their feet were so swollen and lacerated
that the poor fellows could scarcely
stand. There was an old woman of
seventy, with a pair of specs across her
nose, and a young girl of thirteen,
with the face of a fairy, left to battle
with the world alone. There was a grey-
haired man, between seventy and eighty,
from Edinburgh, and a tousie-headed
young fellow, a labourer,'from the city of
York. I was much struck by the ap-
pearance of a young woman, who had
travelled that day from Dumbarton,
through dub and mire, in a pair of thin
slippers which were almost worn out.
She was extremely good-looking, well-
bred, and tastefully dressed, and yet
she was following the occupation of
a street singer. I was still more struck
by the appearance of a powerful -looking
Irishwoman, with a bare head and tatter-
demalion clothes, who had crossed the
Channel from Belfast in search of her
runaway husband. She had scoured
every lodging-house in Greenock without
getting her eyes upon him, and I con
assure the reader that there was mischief
in those eyes. She meant to continue the
chase throi^gh Glasgow, and if the cul-
prit happens to be caught, he may look
out for something more than squalls, or
I am no Judge of feminine * human
natur.' It was altogether a sad and
sorrowful sight ,* and I could not help
feeling thankful that such an institution
was opeq in Glasgow to mitigate, in some
measure, the sufferings of the houseless
poor in winter. No doubt the reckless,
the depraved, and the undeserving are
sometimes fed and sheltered as well
as the deserving poor, but even in the
former case, when the applicants are
really destitute, it is surely bettor
to give them the shelter of a roof
and a supper of oatmeal porridge,
than to have them sleeping on common
stairs, and perishing with cold and
hunger. In this manner 41,400 persons
were relieved during the year ending on
the r2th September last, and since the
opening of the institution, thirty-one
years ago, it has given occasional food
and shelter to 887,682 men, women, and
children, while the meals supplied can
now be numbered by the million.
What an army of loiBienXi^ft ixy(^T\Biak\
Vol II.— M. 44.
870
Notices of Books,
What an amount of destitution do theso
figures disclose ! What a blessing^ that
fuoh an institution b open in Glasgow
t > mitigate, eyen in the smallest meaaurob
such a burden of human miserj I
WHAT TO DO FOR THE APPARENTLY DROWNED.
As winter advances risk of drowning
increases ; no time, therefore, could be
more appropriate than the present for
drawing attention to recent modifica-
tions of the late Dr. Marshall Hall's
well-known directions for restoring the
apparently drc^wned. In l863-(')4, the
Boval National Lifeboat Institution
instituted extensive inquiries among
medical men, medical bodies, and coro-
ners throughout the United Kingdom,
resulting in the adoption of certain direc-
tions in eases of drowning, founded on
the principles of the Marshall Hall and
Sylvester methods. These directions
W3re plainly given, but very long, and
hence not likely to be remembered by
any but professional persons. Some
correspondence in two or three late
numbers of the Lancet has, however,
refiulted in the production of a short
set of simple rules, purposely expressed
in the language of the imperfectly
educated, and hence calculated to be of
universal service. They arc as follows':
L Lay the drowned man at once flat
on his stomach with his face to the
ground, and a folded coat or bundle
under his chest.
2. Place your hands flat between his
shoulder-blades and make firm pressure,
so as to squeeze the air out of his chest;
then turn the body slowly on to one
side and a little beyond. Replace him
quickly on his face. Count four, to
mark four seconds of time, and then
repeat the process, commencing by
squeezing the air out of the chest again.
3. Wet clothes should be removed
and dry ones substituted, each bystander
contributing. The body to be rubbed
dry briskly, and the face kept from con-
tact with the ground by an assistant
4. Do not squeeze the air out of the
patient's chest if he is breathing, but
wait and watch, merely drying the body
and changing the clotning.
NOTICES OF BOOKS.
Life in a Lunatic Asylum: An Auto-
biographical Sketch. By John Wes-
ton, Author of a small Treatise on the
Treatment of Insjine Persons in
Pauper Lunatic Asylums. — Second
Edition, Enlarged and Illustrated. —
London : Houston and Wright,
Paternoster Row.
Ma. Weston tells us that having a wife
who unfortunately acquired habits of
intemperance, he placed her in a lunatic
asylum, in the nope of curing her.
Borjn after her admittance she, naturally
enough, began to recover; aiid, erelong,
appeared to be so far restored to health
that Mr. Weston resolved to have her
back agnm to his house. But an un-
ex|>ected ohMtaclo presented itself. The
asylum doctor,— dread power ! — pe-
remptorily refused to let the patient go,
•nd would not give any definite hope
of ever relaxing the terrible inhibition.
Mr, WoBion mw that he had^ put his
wife into a trap, and that he was not
to be allowed to get her out again.
Grief at this discoveiy deprived him at
length ofpower to work, to eat, orto sleep.
He was, in short, himself driven mad by
the inexorable decree of the mad-doctor ;
and soon came under the custody and
control of the very man by whom hia
lunacy had been occasioned. He giyee,
in the hook in our hand, rude, inartistic*
but evidently faithful pictures, without
an^ malice in them, of the wretched
things that he saw and passively took
part in, after his admission to the asy-
lum, and describes the slow and harassing
steps by which the freedom of himself
and his wife was at length recovered.
The fdllowing extracts will serve as
Bufllcient samples of the faults he finds
with asylum management^ and his re-
medial suggestions : —
' I had the good fortune to sit at the
top corner of Uie lower tablej on mj
NoUees of Booiks.
371
left hand, at the lower corner of the
adjoining table, sat the unfortunate
tooacconist, before mentioned, whose
death will bo hereafter noticed. On
mj immediate right was a chemist and
druggist, who through intemperance
and indiscretion had lost both his busi-
ness and his head ; but after a course of
abstinence he found the latter, and was
8ent in search of the former ! '
* Immediately on my left, at the head
of the table, presided a worthy con-
tractor, who had contracted some Tery
severe notion?, and who rejoiced in the
possession of a good appetite, especinllv
for pudding. He was so religious in his
own way, that his grace after meat in-
variably consisted in parodying with
the wickedest leer, the poor Irishman's
deyotions, and such was his horror at,
and detestation of Catholicism and
Catholics, that in the frenzy of his hate,
he would reiterate to the poor man's
face, that he should "see him in hell,
hissing and blistering like a sole in a
frying-pan ! "
* lie also very ardently entertained the
notion that the quiet, unobtrusive draper
and my unfortunate self, were detectives,
and bitter and incessant were his perse-
cutions of me on that account. These
increased as I ventured to defend the
poor Catholic from his onslaughts, and
80 violent was he sometimes, that I feared
he would 80 far commit himself, as to
get put under restraint, but such was
the forbearance of the attendants towards
those who could defend themselves, that
no mere words would provoke them to
acts of coercion ! (With the helpless the
reverse was the case.)
« One day we were put to work together
in the field by ourselves, and I really
quailed at the prospect, but it appears
Uiat somehow he had altered his opinion,
for I found him on that occasion
particularly communicative and enter-
taining. It would appear that he
had been soured in early life, by
ill treatment. His mother he thought a
paragon of goodness, and to her he was
indebted for all the good he ever pos-
sessed, but his good opinion of the fair
sex in general was in a declining state.
His master's wife was, to him, the very
personification of tlie devil's better half,
for in addition to her o^^«r ill treatment
she starved him as well as made him
a slave.
' On one occasion she made two large
puddings, of which she and the family
ate up .one, never giving him a tastc^
the other she put by, and going out
her$:elf, left him to do the cleaning up,
and also a mother's duty to the chil-
dren. The pudding haunted him like
a *' passion !" Go where he would or do
what he would, the pudding was after
him; at last, risking all consequences,
he took a slice, and it ate so good be
could not possibly resist taking another,
which only served to whet his appetite
for more ; so he took a third, when lo I
the pudding was half gone I I suppose
he thought, never mind, *' in for a penny,
in for a pound, as well be hung for a
sheep as a lamb," for h^ never left the
pudaing until he had eaten the last bit.
* All he could do now was to reflect
upon the consequences. The mistress
came home, and missing the pudding,
screamed, "Where's the pudding?" He
being naturally of tough material and
now otherwise fortified with good inside
lining, coolly answered, '* I've eaten it,"
* His recital of this was so droll, that,
delighted with his good humour, pleased
with the idea that he had had a good
meal for once, and so gratified at the
just retribution for the woman's
starving propensities, I laughed out for
the first time since I had been in the
place, and right merrily too, and from
that day if anything gare me pleasure,
it was slipping half my portion of
pudding on to his plate.
* On leaving the hall I thought it ex-
ceedingly unfeeling and cruel not to be
allowed, even for one moment, to speak
to my wife, which, with the fear ot our
inextricable captivity, transfixed me
with horror and filled me with dread.
* One among many instances of das-
tardly cruelty was exhib'ted towards an
unfortunate fellow who had recently
been brought there. He had stopped a
man with a horse and cart and claimed
them as his property, for which he was
given in charge to the police and sent to
this asylum. He was a nice, honest-
looking countryman, but somehow or
other had taken it into his head that
such and such things belonged to him,
and that such and such persons owed him
money. So he was brought here, and in
the Airing Court the boobies got round
him and persuaded him that one of the
attendants had not paid him for some
pigs bought of him some time ago, the
attendants joining in the game. The
poor fellow believed it, and proceeded
to pester the man for the monsy ; and
as they continued to hound him ou^ ihft
game was catridd. oa «d \vci%>}cA^.>(i[A
372
Notices of Books.
attendant seized hold of the poor fellow,
and dashed liim with great violence to
the ground two or three times, and
knelt upon him as if he had boon dough.
lie looked dreadfully ill after ward •?;
but tlie treatment cured him of his
fancies. Tlie imaginary debt was paid,
and I never heard th^t he made any
further claim ; neither do I recollect
ever seeing him again. Very soon I
beard tliat he was dead !
* I had tried to stop the game by per-
suading him that they were playing upon
bis weakness and credulity in order to
laugh at him, and had partially suc-
ceeded in calming hiui ; but it was very
unsafe to interfere where attendants were
concerned, the interference only inciting
them to greater harshneas. I was
obliged to lbrbe:ir.
* Were the.«e facts brought to the know-
ledge of the jury, if in(iue9t there were ?
* Did the doctor know what was the
matter with liim ?
• Was tliere a post inoriem examina-
tion ?
' I cannot answer these questions ; but
bis death was ao sudden that ho was
never even brought into the Infirmary.
* This is what is called attendance ! *
* Beinjy in the Infirmary as an invalid,
I was debarred from going into the
hall to mrals ; consequently I wiw cjn-
demned to the ufo of the iron spoon,
the only implement hero allowed to
assist in the opemtion of taking or
giving food.
* Here also I was favoured with u sight
of the manner in which food was
frequently placed on the table, which
was by dexterously throxchtg it^ so
that the hunches of bread and butter
came plump down like bricks, and
potatoes like tennis balls; this feat
being performed by "Mr. Pumble "
or his officious scrubbing assistant
standing at one end of the table, and
the patient who required the extra dole
at the other, — reminding me of throw-
ing a b(me to a dog or of feeding pigs ;
and the manner in which the patients
frequently grabbed at the prolfered
morsel did not tend to lc8:?cn that
impresj-ifin.
•Why by treating them as pigs make
tbom bo(M»nie as pigs?
*Tlie manner of feeding the patients,
the language u.-e 1, the filthy allusions,
the dis<;usting and obscene retorts —
attendants vying with patients in ex-
citwg the loudest lauizh; the attendant's
coarse bawl, the obstreperous shove,
the stamping on toes; the pitching
about the ill, the unruly, and the holp-
le?s patients, heedless of the result:
these shameful scenes tended tJmt to
strengthen my preconceived impressions
that I was accursed of Ood ; now they
fill me with grief, that they should occur
in the Infirmary of all places.
' Surely such attendanta are unfit for
their post.
*The night attendant just named,
clever though he was, and kind, as
above stilted, could^ I grieve to say, be
very cruel. On one occasion I saw him,
at the instigation of the scrubber, take
a little harmless muttering preacher by
the arm, twist him out of bed, and
punch and kick him, for a slight delin-
quency.
*A poor man was now brought here as a
patient who had been a stone cutter.
His manners were very qaiet ; but he
was childii>hly opinionated of his abili-
ties, and rather assiduous in trying to
show them off. Having much talent,
he had taught himself to carve the
human figure ; and the admiration he
had already gained seemed to give pro-
mise of future eminence. This success
turned his brain. He cilled himself
the greatest sculptor in the world. His
childish conceit cost him many an ugly
cuff, and his resistance brought down
upon him the most cruel handling from
tlie scrubber. I have seen that fellow
h'jot him out of the room ; and, because
ho resisted, catch hold of him and throw
him heavily to the ground, and after
repeating the cowardly operation two
or three times, stamp upon him — a
proceeding in which he dearly delighted
to engage.
' The sole cause of this treatment was
that the poor fellow had strayed into our
day room from the adjoining corridor.
The pcrubber commenced his operations
by throwing up his right hand and
bawling out in a most discordant voice,
" Be off-f," which of course would be
rei-iatcd with a corresponding reply»
when without more ado he would lay
hold of the intruder; and the result
would be the discomfiture and torture
of the poor demented object of bis
gr.ite.
* His deceit and treachery were equnl
to his dastardly tricks. He would take
a leaf from any book, wherewith to
light his pipe, and when the master
came would bring the very book be had
himself torn, and show it as the waj
Notices of Boohs.
373
in which tho books wore aeryed ; which
would cause the books to bo locked up,
and th« patients to be deprived of their
use. He wai an apt scholar of his
master, the *• Bumble" attendant.
* I ask, Are such men fit for their
post?
* Would not some of the morey ex-
pended upon these much vaunted beau-
tiful palaces be much better laid out in
Becuring a better class of attendants,
and a more efficient supervision ? And
when I think of the amount of misery
that must have been caused by such
hands during the long spao of ttcenty-
sevfn years, is it any wonder that I
make this attempt to expose the truth,
hoping that a remedy may be found ?
* The doctor never saw these things —
how could he? He was never there,
but when like the hands of a clock the
appointed hour was come, or when sent
for ; and then all things were straight,
the rooms were still, and the speech as
soft aa any silk.
* His rule was regularity ; his guide
punctuality. To see everything clean
and beautiful and trim was his hobby —
to make them appear so, the attendant's
aim.
' If the poor sculptor had been gently
taken by the hand, and led away to
some interesting object, or been per-
mitted to use his pencil, or chalk, or
even a drawer of sand, with which ho
could have traced, or obliterated, his
fancies at pleasure, how different might
have been his fate ! but, at last, he was
not allowed an atom of anything that
would make a mark. The cruel attend-
ants would rudely and roughly rifle his
pockets, and take away everything cal-
culated to give him pleasure.
*It was very touching to see with what
assiduity he would hunt over the Airing
Court in search of soniething to amuse
himself with ; and how clever he was
in constructing in the palm of his hand
the most beautiful devices, with bits of
stone, wood, leaves, fibre, — anything,
in fact, that came in his way — like orna-
mental clumps of stone and flowers,
garden-grotto fashion.
' These he would fomi as assiduously
as a bird would con««truct it« beautiful
nest ; then show them alK>ut, with as
much delight as a child would show its
toys ; and they, as ruthlessly as they
would destroy a nest and break the
beautiful eggo. would strike from his
hand the fragile building which his
alented fancy had so tastefully reared.
He became for some time thinner and
weaker, and then died.*
' In the name of all that is good, let
jealous care be taken that while the
doors are ever open to receive such in-
mates, attempts be not made to close
the avenues by which they may emerge
again into tho glorious liberty of self-
reliant self-control. Do not scare the
mind into madness by the terrible idea
of inextricable captivity.
' It is no argument that because some
are so weak that they relapse, they
should be debarred from making the
trial, even though they fail again and
again. And this applies also to many
a nervous desponding patient, to whom
a short residence at these asylums would
be life and safety, whilst a long and
hopeless one would only confirm the
insanity of which they may have ecaroely
reachea the brink.
* For the incurably demented, the idiot,
and the helpless maniac, they would
i ndeed be a blessing, if all were carried
out consistently with the fair outside,
and the professed principles of treat-
ment. That this is not always the case
my narrrttive will, I think, show. They
are beautiful buildings, the construction
and arrangement all but perfect; but
there are canker worms within, which
undo much of the intended good ; and
the chief of all is vnjit attendants.
' I know that there is much difficulty
in this matter. Men of the lowest
grade are employed for lack of better ;
but for other positions of trust and
skill — for teachers, servants, sick-nurset
— there are systems of training ; how
much more is such needed in the
management of the insane !
* If Charles Dickens, with his wonder-
ful powers and philanthropic spirit^
could only gain admission as an un-
known pauper lunatic for one week,
vnthout the risk of his never getting
out again, what a tale he could unfold,
especially if he could render himself
refractory and require tho tender mer-
cies of an Infirmary "Bumble!" And
Sisters of Mercy, too, if they could gain
admission without tho risk of detention,
what congenial morning and evening
exercises for their Christian labours!
'The situation of these places may be
beautiful, the order and arrangement
first-class, the provisions ample, and the
cleanliness and appearance delightful;
but what is appearance if manners and
attendance are wantix^^*? kVwA-sRcst^
874
Notices of Books.
and a smile arc better than a curse and
ill-treatment, forbearance than rough-
ness.
*The asylum alluded to was highly
favoured in one respect^ in having a
master, or what is termed *' head attend-
ant,*' of sterling worth. His order,
precision, and promptitude were ad-
mirable ; and altnough apparently hard
in some respects, he was of a kind and
genial disposition. His respectful at-
tention to the doctor was of the first
order, devoid of servility and obsequi-
ousness. To him I am indebted for
encouraging me to hope ; and my ad-
miration of him is enhanced when I
call to mind his calm demeanour, never
raising his voice nor using any impure
or improper word.
* The doctor was'a man of excellent
parts. His attentions were unremitting,
and he certainly was an excellent super-
intendont) although ho sometimes made
mistakes. He took his rounds like the
hands of a clock, making daily queries
of over two hundred patients, prescrib-
ing and dispensing for all according to
the varying demands made upon his
judgment. His dial-like supervision of
the whole establishment, his attention
to visitors, and the multifarious calls
upon his attention, left him little time
and less chance of observing what was
going on behind the scenes; and the
master, with all his praiseworthy assi-
duity, could not be here, there, and
everywhere at the same time.
* It is all very well for the doctor once
a day to pace the beautiful corridors, the
spacious dormitories, the ample day
rooms, the splendid dining hall, the
handsome stone balustraded staircase,
etc., of this really beautiful building,
and to see that everything is in apple-
pie order; also for the committee of
visitors to come over once in two or
three weeks, thinking, too, everything
beautiful, no doubt. But there is be-
hind the scenes !
* 1 write not to disparage individuals,
I wish not to injure anyone ; but I do
desire heartily to mitigate the miseries
and to mollify, if I cannot heal, the
wounds of those unfortunates who can
neither help nor defend themselves.
For the furtherance of tliis object I
most strenuously advocate, so far as
my humb'o powers will permit, a few
modifieutions in tho present arrange-
ment of these otherwise orderly and
beautiful estubliahments.
'First J and of primary importance, the
appointment of respectable, well-in-
formed, and, if possible, religious per-
sons, as supervising attendants in the
refractory and infirmary wards of
every asylum, whose duty it should be
to overlook all the proceeding and to
be responsible for the due and proper
performance of all duties appertaining
to the ordinary attendants, especially in
the dressing, undressing, bathing, and
feeding of patients; to conduct the read-
ing of prayers and singing ; to check all
improper language, and to read to, in-
struct, and amuse the patients.
* Secondly, that every reasonable facilitj
be given to patients in all the wards, to
follow their harmless bente in amusing
themselves in their own way. It i»
better to see the artist draw, the writer
write, the calculator make figures, than
to sour them into sullen indifierence or
mischievous spite, merely for the sake
of seeing the place perfectly free from
every speck or spot or scratch, which s
little paint or whitewash or soap and
water would entirely obliterate.
* Thirdly, greater facihties for dis-
charging patients that are not danger-
ous (if only on parole) on their own
petition. Let them try. Hopeleas
captivity is terrible.
' My own trying circumstances make
me suggest in addition that surely it
may be possible to make such exceptions
to standing rules as shall enable s
husband and wife (if such sad cases
arise) to see one another oftener ; and
to be more comfort to each other. I
know there fnusi be rules ; but rules to
which no exception can be made, can-
not but be mischievous.
* My motive is to call sympathy and
healing to those who need both. Mar
many hearts and hands help in this
work, and unmistakably prove that
"the law of kindness is the cheapest
law, and the most powerful for good 1" '
BrotherS'in-Law, In three volumes.
London : Hurst and Blackctt, 13^
Great Marlborough-street.
Commencing to read this new novel, ae
in duty bound, we at first felt sorry for
ourselves, having the impression that
we were getting into the society of a set
of very disagreeable people. IVever, for
instance, were we in real life amongst
sisters who appeared to be so neediesslj
and provokiugly lying on the catch for^
and snapping at, each other. But
matters improved as we went on. ThA
Notices of Boohs.
875
persons of the drama, so clererly dis-
criminated, and BO Tiridlj presented,
began to be acquaintances in whom we
were compelled to take an interest, and
this continued to grow as we got farther
into the tale. Villanous though one or
two, shjrp-tongued and ill-governed
though several of them are, hopes and
fears for them, and many pleasant sjm«
pathies and profitable reilcctions, are
awakened as their story progresses ; and
we close the third volume recognising
that we have not only been amused by
character-painting of no mean skill,
bat also instructed by teaching of no
ordinary wisdom.
The first volume mainly occupies
itself with the necessary introductions
to the personages of the story, and with
the development and culmination in
marriage of the love of Horace Vane
and Mildred Curtis, who, on the whole,
are the hero and heroine. This pre-
liminary narrative is beautifully told,
and the interest it elicits is due chiefly,
as is that of the whole of the work, to
the presentment of mental character in
its osstivation and growth. We con-
sider this to bo high praise, because it
not only is the most rare quality in
novels, it is also the only really valuable
one for any purpose ancillary to the
reader's actual instruction in the art of
life. The book that exists only to be-
fuile the flying hours is worthless,
owever clever, and however exciting.
If it avails to leave the reader s mind
on a higher plane of thought and feeling
than ho occupied on commencing
it, and gives him, besides, for his
help in lite, some precious droppings
from the ripe grapes of the vino of
spiritual wisdom, it is, like the
* Brothers-in-Law,' a noble work, for
which readers of true discernment will
heartily thank the author.
Horace and Mildred being at length
married, they might 'live happy ever
after,' for aught the reader sees, were it
not that they have a brother-in-law,
who is tho evil demon of the play.
Highly gifted with outward personal
advantages, Walter Harewood is shal-
low-hearted, showy, luxurious, and
extravagant. Large spending r»ecessi-
tates large getting, * si rectius * all the
better, of course, but if not, then other-
wise. And so ensue peculation of
cash, and falsification of the books of
the firm in which Walter and Horace
are partners with Mr. Curtis, their
father-in-law. Which peculation and
falsification are disoovered by Horace,
who thereupon insists on the retirement
of the villain from the firm, and having
thus stopped the growing mischief,
works hard thereafter to restore tho
damaged interests, while he collaterally
does all he can to induce in the culprit
penitence and reformation and final
recovery of some position of honour.
This is what ought to have occurred;
and had it done so, there would have
been a strong embankment well main-
tained against the inrush of a terrible
fiood of misery upon almost everybody
in the book. But Horace took another
course. Moved by the entreaties and
reformatory promises of his peccant
brother-in-law, Horace promised to
make no exposure of the discovered
guilt ; yet feeling conscientiously bound
not to remain connected with the firm,
after having become thus an accessory
after the fact, he abruptly retires from
the concern, to the great disgust and
mortal offence of Mr. Curtis, his wife's
father, and enables the villain Walter
not only to continue his abstractions of
money, but also to charge them upon
Horace, whose sndden migration from
affluence to poverty is, indeed, explicable
to the world, on no other theory than
that of guilt, — from whose stain ho
cannot vindicate his fame except by
violating his promise to his brother-
in-law.
On this odd dilemma, almost all the
rest of the tale is poised. What misery
ensues to Horace, to Mildred, and to
the whole family of the Curtises, not
omitting, by the necessary Nemesis,
the rascally brother-in-law himself, and
how matters at length come rights
although life can never be to any of tho
actors in the drama what it was before
the inrush of the misery, the author
ably proceeds to develope.
Besides all this, she deserts none of
the persons to whom she introduced us
in the outset, but carries them all
equally along with the rest, allowing us
to see, in the progress and ultimation
of their different destinies, the necessary
dependence of these on their character
and conduct, and thus she instructs
whilst she deeply interests her readers,
not with any moral to her tale ob-
strusively presanted, but by leaving the
simple rhetoric of facts to do its own
natural suasion.
Altogether, then, this effort of crea-
tive art has our cordial commendation.
376
Notices of BooJes,
JPoems and Ballads, By Janot Hamil-
ton. Authoregg of * Poems and
Essays,' and 'Poems and Sketches.*
With Introductory Papers by the
Rev. George Gilfillan and the Rev.
Alexander Wallace, D.D. Glasgow :
James Macklehose, 61, St Vincent-
street.
Observing that we have here a volume
of poems by a peasant woman now in
her seventy-fourth year and blind, we
take up the book with very moderate
expectations indeed, and are disap-
pointed. Rut the disappointment is on
the pleasant side. Here is the vivacity
of movement and freshness of feeling of
a girl in her teens, rather than of an
aged pilgrim on the edge of the grave ;
in addition, here is the wisdom thai
oomes only with * years that bring the
philosophic mind.' Janet Hamilton is
one of those natural queens who live in
dignity and honour, let their training
and advantages be what they may.
Opportunities of mental culture, few
and limited, produce results surpassing
those achieved by average persons with
the run of all the academics ; as healthy,
hardy bodies, fed on salt, potatoes, and
buttermilk, sometimes developo into
perfection of grace or magnificence of
proportion, putting to shame tlie average
results of the most various and ample
dietaries. We do not mean to say tliat
Janet Hamilton is one of the few great
poets of her sex, but she sometimes
rises well above mediocr if V, whilst the
wonder is that in lier ran\[ of life and
with her aids, she should not always lie
far below it. Her ballads especially are
simple, natural, and effective.
Beport of the Free Labour Registra-
tion Society, July, 18G8. London :
Spottiswoode and Co., New - street
Square. Head Ofliccs of the Society :
43, Parliament-street, Westminster.
Liverpool Branch : 3, Cable-street,
Liverpool.
We reprint with pleasure the circular
of this excellent society : —
Free Labour Registration Society, a
Chamber of Conciliation and Arbitra-
tion. Formed June 1807. It is the
belief of the majority of all classes of
the community that the present practice
of Trades' Unions is working inju-
riously for the interests of both work-
men and emplovers, and for the pro-
ductive prosperity of the country.
That they form a barrier between em-
ployed and employers, and prevent the
association of interests which should bo
identical. That they needlessly protract
trade disputes, and make the operative
class discontented and suspicious ; while
the employment of capital is rendered
hazardous and uncertain. That they
deny the undoubted right of employers
and employed to make their own term?.
That thev tend to prevent a man raising
himself in the social scale, by trying to
reduce all workmen to a low standard
of mediocrity. That they make contracts,
and all prospective calculations of cost
and profit, impossible, and thus tend to
drive capital and trade out of the coun-
try. That in many instances their
accounts have been improperly kept,
and their funds wasted and misapplied ;
the benefit element reduced to a mini-
mum or altogether ignored. That even
in those cases in which their accounts
are properly kept, they promise benefits
to tlieir members which their rates of
contribution do not warrant. That»
by the severity of the laws by which
they restrict the number of apprentices,
a large proportion of Britisn youths is
prevented from learning a trade, and
thus the numbers of the idle and crimi-
nal class are largely increased.
This society has been formed to
check those evils, by affording a rally-
ing point for non-unionist workmen
and employers, and by giving increased
facilities for the calm and kindly
discussion of the questions affecting
capital and labour; by uniting the
interests of employed an(^ employers ;
by arranging by arbitration the dis-
putes that will occasionally arise in
all trades ; by removing the suspicions
of workmen ; by re-assuring capital,
and encouraging its outlay in the
various industries of the country ; bj
freeing employers and employed from
coercion and terrorism ; by asserting
the sacred right of every man to make
the best u^e he can of the talents ho has,
and of putting his own price upon his
industry in the free market of labour.
This society secures to its members the
most economic and advantageous dis-
tribution of the funds for the benefit of
the sick, &c. With this latter object,
the highest authorities in the kingdom
have assisted with their counsel and
experienre. Noblemeu and gentlemen
of undoubted probity have consented to
servo upon a committee with the mem-
bers themselves. The • Benefit Society,
composed of a union of all tradea, pos-
NoUcea of Books.
377
sessos thereby considerable advantages.**
Sach oi' the insurances is separate and
optional ; each of them will bo guaran-
teed by Government, except the sick
fund, which is managed by committees
composed jointly of working men
and emplojers. The appeal made to
the better feelings of the working class
has been nobly responded to by them,
and an organisation of non-union labour
has been perfected in London. The
rules which they have drawn up will
repay careful scrutiny, and prove alike
the intelligence and moderation of their
framers. During the firnt twelve months
more than thirteen thousand workmen
were enrolled, and more than one thou-
sand members provided with permanent
employment. A brancli, supported by
all the leading firms, has been opened
in Liverpool, and, as funds admit, will
be formed in other great towns. Very
many strikes have be«n arranged, and
others averted, through the operations
of the society.
Noblemen and gentlemen are en-
treated to allow their names to be
placed upon this little Parliament
of Free Labour. Working men are
registered gratis; a fee of half a day's
wages is charged only when a situation
u obtained through tlie society's means;
subscription for members Id. per month.
The scale of subscription for employers
becoming members is fixed at £i per
annum, for each fifty persons usually
employed by tliem. Employers are
particularly requested to employ as
many of tlio society's members us pos-
sible. The objects of the society may
be brieflv stated thus: — 1. To obtain
employment for those who want it, and
bands for employers. 2. The free dis-
cussion of all questions afiboting capital
and labour. iJ. The peaceful set tie met it
of such questions by arbitration. 4. The
protection of the interests of members
by strictly constitutional means. The
committee are convinced that when the
operations of the society are understood
by all classes of tliis country, the pecu-
niary a.s«ifjtance so much needed will
not be withheld. — F. C. Maude, Hono-
rary Secretary.
Form of declaration required from
members : — I , will not at any
time, while I remain a member of this
society, aid or assist, by word or deed,
• See Report of Right Hon. W. E. Glad-
ftone s Aiswcrs t> itie Tiado Union Dele-
gate^i, in Papers, February 19, 1868. j
in preventing any person from making
his own terms with his employer, or
from peaceably following his employ-
ment under such terms or contracL
Topics for Teachers. A New Work for
JliniaferSt Sunday-school Teachers^
and others, 07i an EntMfj Ori(/inal
IHan. By James CowperGrsy, Hali-
fax. Author of ' The Class and the
Desk.* Illustrated with over 200
Engravings and eight First-class
Maps. Section I, Nature. London :
Elliot Stock, G2, Paternoster Row.
TiiK author states that the very favour-
able reception of ' The Class and the
Desk ' has induced him to prepare for
the use of Sunday-school teachers and
others, a work in which all the matters
of interest in the Word of God relating
to biblical science, history, geography,
biography, morals, and religion, will
bo systematically arranged and pre-
sented in 288 condensed summaries,
illustrated by over 200 well-executed
engravings, and a series of eight first-
class coloured maps. Each of these
topics will consist of some biblical sub-
ject, around which will be grouped the
whole of the most important Scripture
references, scientific facts, historical
incidents, and otiier things therewith
connected, and followed by suitable
moral and religious suggestions as hints
for practical use; so that a teacher taking
up any subject for class preparation
will here find all the information that
he needs upon it, whether from the
Word of God or from secular writings.
A copious index will bo appended, and
will, the author thinks, render thccom-
Elete work more serviceable than most
iblical dictionaries and concordances
combined.
In the number before us, the new
work opens well and promisingly.
Letfer to the Eight Ilonourdfyle William
Chambers, of Glenormiston, Lord Pro-
vost of the Cty of Edinburgh , on the
Aims and Practical Working of the
Aswciafion, More Especially in Refe-
rence to the Employment of the Poor.
By David Curror, Convenor of tlio
Employment Committee.
Ma. Cukhok's aim in this pamphlet is
to commend to general con^ideratioa
and approval the organisation, objects,
and operations of the Edinburgh Asso-
ciation for Improving the Condition of
the Poor. In • considering the poor,*
he distinguishes between three cla&«^\ —
378
Notices of Boohs.
firRt the 'Bible poor,' as be calls them,
— those whose poverty is genuine, un-
ayoidable, and permanent, including the
maimed, thesicK, and the weak, whether
in body or mind, From ago or from any
other irremovable cause; second, the
poor wljo are such from temporary
accident or loss of work ; third, the
sturdy bep/ifars, who are so by choice.
In preserving the second class from the
pauper-roll, the benevolent are savingtho
sufferers, the ratepayers, and the nation ;
whilst they are securing the non-occur-
rence of conflicts or cross-purposes
between tlie legal poor-law administra-
tion and the action of the hand of
Christian charity. The third class of
poor Mr. Curror would hand over
[)odily to the tender mercies of the
Apostolic law, that he that will network
neither shall he eat ; work is to be
found for them in manner pointed out
in thii* pamphlet, and they must be
compelled to do it by methods which he
also takes care to indicate. Objections
to this very sensible scheme are duly
met by Mr. Curror as ho goes on ; and
bis pamphlet, on tlie whole, is one which
we can heartily commend to the con-
sideration of ail who take an interest in
the great question of pauperism. The
present poor-law deals with these three
olasses together, generally under one
roof, with one rigimen^ and one em-
ployment, if employed at all. But
enlightened humanity must recognise
that each of the three classes requires a
treatment of its own. The first, beinff
yvorthy, should receive all the care and
attention which can be shown to them
by Christian philanthropy. * They are
God's legacy committed and commended
to their more prosperous brethren.*
They, and they only, Mr. Curror thinks,
are the proper objects of in-door paro-
chial relief, and for their sakes the
existing workhouses should be converted
from pauper keeps into imbeciles* homes,
where they may have such ministration
as in family circles is bestowed on an
imbecile relation. The second class are,
he says, the proper objects of the care
of societies like the one he represents ;
BO that in their temporary incapacity,
through illness, accident, or otlicr cause,
they may be provided with whatever is
necefJ-ary to tecuro their recovery, pre-
serve their Ijomes, and prevent them
from becoming permanent paupers.
Scriptural Tedimony agaipst Intoxicat-
inSf ^Vine, By the Eey. William
Bitchie, Dunse. A New Edition,
much enlarged. Glasgow: Scottiah
Temperance League.
Tub first edition of Mr. Bitchie's work
haying won an extensive circulation, it
has been thought worth while to give
'a broader and more complete treat-
ment* to the subject of the wines of
Scripture, so as to enlarge the work to
about double its former bulk. *The
Scriptures under the lists of different
worus are now printed in full, brief
notes are inserted on the leading texts,
for the elucidation of the topic en band,
and a new chapter of considerable length
is added, on Scripture side-lights for
abstinence. £yery important passage
in the Bible, where wine or strong drink
is mentioned, is, in the course of the
treatise, considered and explained, eo
as to furnish a commentary on each, in
its bearing on the question at issue.*
The book consists of eleven chapters, in
the course of which the different wines
of Scripture, Tirosh or yine-fruit, Yayin
or wine, Shechar or sweet drink, and all
minor words for wine in the Old Testa-
ment, and all words of like meaning in
the New, are carefully examined. ♦Scrip-
ture Side-lights for Abstinence' are also
looked at, and 'The Scripture Testimony
to Abstinence* is expounded. To those
who have no time to read the larger and
fuller Bible Temperance Commentary
of Dr. Lees and Mr. Burns, or who
desire something at a lower price and
of a more popular oharaoter, Mr.
Bitchie's yolume will be found accept-
able and serviceable, as it is written in
plain and simple stjle, printed in large
type, and sold at a small charge.
The Philosophy of the Bath; or Air and
Water in Health and Ditease ; corUain"
ing a History of Hydro-therapeutics,
and of the Hot-air Bath from the
EarlieU Ages, with an Introductory
Chapter illustrative of the Present
Condition of the Medical Profession.
By Durham Dunlop, M.R.I. A. Lon-
don: Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.,
Stationers Hall Court.
A SERIES of papers contributed by Mr.
Duulop to a public journal with which
he was connected wereso much approyed '
of, that their separate publication was
suggested. The work of revision gradu-
ally drew him on, until he had not only
re-caiit the old matter, but expauded the
papers into a goodly yolume. Accor-
dingly we haye here, in 465 pag&, if not
all that can be, yet certainly all that
Notices of Books.
379
needs be said about tbe therapeutic use
of hot air ; — in shorty the Turkish or
Boman bath finds here its most elabo-
rate exposition and adTOcacy. An intro-
ductory chapter treats of the value of
health, the ignorance of the * educated
classes ' concerning the science of life,
the opposition of the medical profession
to new discoYeries, the present condi-
tion of that profession as borne witness
to by medical authorities, the value of
medical opinion, and other kindred
matters, all tending to discount the
value of the healing science and art in
as far as it holds itself apart from
hydro- and thermo-therapeutics. In
subsequent chapters are given histories
of Hydropathy and Warm Bathing, ac-
counts of the Hot-air Baths of Greece
and Rome, descriptions of those of
Bussia, Finland, Eg^pt, Africa, China,
Japan, North American India, Europe
during the middle ages, &c., &c. After
this we have a series of chapters on the
physiology of life, followed by others on
the Bath as a curative agent ; and then
the author returns to the medical pro-
fession and it« opposition to the Bath,
and concludes with a copious variety of
considerations and statements calculated
to create a perfect furore for hot-aur
bathing in all and sundry. We feel
ourselves longing for a Boman Bath as
we read, and only sorry that our birth
was not held back and ourselves re-
served for the next century, when,
according to Mr. Dunlop, every re-
spectable house will have its hot-air
chamber. In default of the hot-air
bath, a copy of Mr. Dunlop's learned
and well-written volume may, in the
meanwhile, find its way into every
household ; and although its allegations
against the doctors might well throw the
whole faculty into a violent perspiration
and 60 render the bath unnecessary in
their cose, yet amongst the general pub-
lic, we are persuaded, the book will be
acceptable in proportion to the intelli-
gence and good sense of the reader. It
is dedicated to Mr. Richard Baxter, the
great reviver of the hot-air bath amongst
the western nations.
IVays and Means: J Story of Ltfe*8
Struggles. By Clara Lucas Balfour.
Authoress of 'Morning Dewdrops,*
* Women of Scripture,' &c. London:
W. Tweedie, 337, Strand.
The name of this new tale by Mrs.
Balfour has nothing to recommend it ;
for Uie tale itself a good word may be
said. It introduces us to Job Tufton in
the outset; — a cripple, a cobbler, a man
that hath had losses, and a philanthro-
gist. Also to Martin, a boy whom Job
as picked out of the mire, and who
becomes, by honesty, industry, and other
good qualities, master of other men,
and husband of the heroine. This last
we see at first under very pathetic cir-
cumstances, as a child, the sole guard
and nurse of a bankrupt, sick, and
suicidal medical man, who, however, in
the end, after some narrow escapes,
recovers health, and retrieves his cha-
racter. There are sundry other per-
sonages in the tale, who conduce to the
working of the plot, and in whom the
reader learns to take an interest. The
^reat object of Mrs. Balfour in this, as
in most of her previous productions, is
to guard her readers against the seduc-
tive properties of intoxicating drinks.
John OrieTs Start in Life. By Mary
Howitt. London : Seeley, Jackson,
and Halliday, 64, Fleet-street ; and
JS. W. Partridge and Co., 9, Pater-
noster Row.
A PLEASING story of a poor boy's strug-
gles, inculcating incidentally the value
of truth and honesty, and trust in God,
It is told in Mrs. Hewitt's well-known
charming manner, and is sent forth in
a neat and becoming attire.
Luda : A Lay of the Druids, Ht/mns^
Tales, Essays, and Legends, Hy John
Harris. Author of *Shakspere's
Shrine,' &c. London: Hamilton,
Adams, and Co.
Mr. Harris, who tells us that from his
thirteenth until his thirty-seventh year
he toiled for his daily bread as a miner,
has strong poetic instincts, and has evi-
dently done his best to acquire in his
very limited leisure the art of expressing
them. For this he deserves praise*
*Luda, a Lay of the Druids,' is a
metrical tale in the style of Sir Walter
Scott, and is the most pretentious and
least valuable part of the collection.
* Caleb Cliff, a dramatic fragment,' has
the merit of telling a true tale, and
enforcing a temperance moral. The
minor poems are the best, — especially
those that are expressive of the domestic
affections. There are a score or more
of hymns of good average merit, and
some Cornish legends, and other pieces,
which, we hope, will bo found more
readable in the county of their origin
than we find them, to \m \i«t^.
880
Notices of Books.
Jack the Conqueror; or. Difficulties
Overcome, lij C. E. Bowen. Author
of * Dick and his Donkoy.' London :
S. W. Partridge and Co., 9, Pater-
noster Row.
A CAPITAL tale, well planned, and no
leas well told. The Conqueror is a boy
devoid, at first, of almost all aids and
appliances to culture, except such as
are not withhold from the children of
barbarous tribes. In spite of extra-
ordinary disadrantages, he brayely
works and clears his way ; step by step
be advances to cleanliness of person
and neatness of attire, to a handicraft,
to means of education, and finally places
himself in a position far above that from
which he sprung. How he effects all
this, and more, is narrated in detail,
in a manner well adapted to interest
and please young boys. The book ia
got up in superior style.
Clever DogSy Horses, ^e., with Anecdotes
of other Animals, By Shirley Hib-
berd. London: S.W. Partridge and
Co., 9, Paternoster Row.
Mr. Partridgk for several years past
has contributed to cultivate in youthful
minds feelings of admiration and kind-
liness towards the animal creation, by
publishing in handsome bindings, on
superior paner, in noble type, and
adorned with many admirable produc-
tions of the art of the graver, books
having that good end in view. He does
not fail in the present season to keep up
the custom. Ho has obtained from the
facile and vigorous pen of Mr. Shirley
Hibberd a capital collection of anecdotes
of animals, put together with taste and
skill ; and many of these are made to
speak to the eye still more expressively,
by beautifuU^'designed and finely exe-
cuted engravmgs. A better present for
a boy or girl needs not be looked for.
Sure of Heaven : A Book for the Dcmht-
ivg and Anxious, By Thomas Milhr.
London : Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster
Row.
This little book is addressed to * The
Doubting and Anxious Christian,* and
is intended to convince him that a full
assurance of salvation is not only desir-
able, but attainable, and not only attain-
able, but necessary. After introductory
matter, follows the body of the work,
in three parts; the first having to do
with the question, * Can I Be Sure of
Heaven ?' the second, with * "What is
Full Assurance?* and the third with
* How can I Be Sure of Heaven V The
theology of Mr. Mills is of the evangeli-
cal school. The book is written in %
plain, earnest style.
Italian Church Reformation. An Oc"
casional Paper, Dublin : George
Herbert, 117, Grafton-strcet.
This paper is written from an Anglican
and American Episcopal Church stand-
point. It gives some interesting details
of the progress of the Reformation in
Italy.
A Few Words on *Life and Death,
as Taught in Scripture* By A. D.
London : Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster
Row.
Wreck Chart of the British Idts for
18G7, Compiled from the Board of
Trade Begister, showing also the Frt*
sent Lifeboat Stations.
The Lifehoaf, A monthly magazine.
Royal National Lifeboat Institution,
14, John-street, Adelphi, London.
Old Jonathan, the District and Parish
Helper. A penny monthly. London:
W. H. Collingridge, 117, Aldersgate-
street.
The Hive : A Storehouse of Material Jor
Working Sunday - school Teachers,
Monthly. London: Elliot Stock,
62, Paternoster Row.
The Church : A Monthly Penny Maga-
zine. London: Elhot Stock, 62,
Paternoster Row.
The Scattered Nation. Monthly.
Edited by C. Schwartz, D.D.
The Appeal. A (Halfpcnnv) Maeasine
for tho People. London: Elliot
Stock, 62, Paternoster Row.
The Church of England Temperance
Magazine. A Monthly Journal of
hiielH never. London: Stcley, Jack-
son, and Halliday, and S. W. Par-
tridge.
Meliora:
^ ^navttxli» ^tf>it^
OP
Social Science
IN ITS
Ethical, Economical, Political, and Ameliorative
Aspects.
VOL. XII.
WIDEO MELIORA PROBOQUE.'
Ovid. Metamorph., lib. vii. 20.
LONDON :
S. W. PARTRIDGE, 9, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1S69.
1U5C1IX8TER FRUTTED AT TIIE OUABDIAN STEAM-PRINTLNO WORKS, CS088 amXBT.
CONTENTS J
PAGE
The British Colonies i
Byeways OF English .. 21
The Property OF Married Women 5'
'CxCi]>i'<Ki 17ALC70NER ••• •.. ... ••< •• .•• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• \J\.
The Licensing Laws and Proposals for their Amendment 65
Sc.\RLET Fever AND ITS Prevention S4
The Sanitary Mission Woman 88
Parochial Mission Woman S9
Mr. Lecky's History OF European Morals 97
The Liquor Traffic in Relation to Labour, and Capital no
Backward Glances : England in 1769 123
SOMERSETSHIRE ••• ... ••t ••• ••• '3
The Gretfons OF Highflv 155
MJLP^k^yx XaAX«I^o ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ■•• XOm
An English Photograph BY AN American 184
Civilization AND Health • 193
J. S. Mill ON THE Subjection OF Women 207
Report of Convocation ON iNTEMPiyiANCE 219
Dr. Lyman Beecher's Six Sermons 238
■LIANIilL l^EFOL ■•• ... ••• 243
Jt\ N 2\.U n ± it JL ALari •<• ... ... ••• ... ••• ••• <•• ••• ••« ... ••• ZO X
JC LiLLtlf >3 1 v/K. 1 S ••• ••. ••« ... ... ... ... ... ••• ••• ... ... ... ZO^
Modern Town Conveyances 305
Reporting AND Reporters 321
The Contagious Diseases Acts 336
Underground Life 354
The Stoker's Revenge 372
Statistical D.\ta FOR Social Reformers 82,176,279,369
Notices of Books 91,185,282,378
Meliora.
THE BRITISH' COLONIES.
1. The Colonial Office List for 1869. By Arthur N. Birch and
William Robinson, of the Colonial Office. London
Harrison.
2. Greater Britain : A Record of Travel in JEnglish-Speahing
Oowntries, during 1866 and 1867. By Charles Went-
worth Dilke. 2 vols. London : Macmillan.
8. AvhotJier England, Infe^ Living^ Somes, and Home Makers
in Victoria, By E. Carton Booth, late Inspector of
Settlement to the Government of Victoria. London :
Virtue.
4. The Constitutional History of England since the Accession o^
George IIL, 1760-1860. .By Thomas Erskine May, C.B.
(Chapter xvii.) London : Longman.
THERE is nothing more remarkable in political geography
than a map of the world on which all the British posses-
sions are tinted with one colour. The contrast between the
•extent of territory covered by the British Colonies and the
narrow limits of the British Isles, — ^between the small parent
kingdom and the innumerable and often enormous off-shoots
is really amazing. The first is comprehended within ten
degrees of latitude and as many of longitude, while
one alone of the second stretches through thirty degrees of
latitude and no fewer than eighty degrees of longitude. The
extent of our possessions is equalled by their variety. They
.are found in every sea, on every continent, within every zone.
English names are found, indeed, even beyond the limits of
habitable existence. It was the English seaman Parry who
all but reached the North pole ; and the English seaman Ross
who designated Mounts Erebus and Terror in that far distant
southern land, which is still all but a terra incognita. Between.
Vol. 12.— JVo. 45. A
2 The British Colonies.
m
these extremes lie island settlements, republics, dominions^
and an empire, all owning the rule of Queen Victoria nomi-
nally, however varied their forms of government really.
Englishmen rule the colony of Queensland, which has just
completed its first decade. Englishmen rule the empire of
Hindostan, where they are brought face to face with a litera-
ture five hundred years older than the Iliad. England,
favoured with one of the most temperate climates in the
worid, has sent her sons into every kind of climate; has sent
them to the frozen waters of Hudson's Bay, to the scarcely
varying temperature of New Zealand, to the scorching heat
of India. Englishmen find themselves the neighbours of the
North-American Indian trapper, of the savage negro on
the Western Coast of Africa, of the polished Hindu Brahmin,
and the clever Chinese merchant, whose ancestors enjoyed
all the arts of civilised life, at the time that the woad-stamed
Briton ofiered his sacrifices in the Druids' grove. Eng-
land's possessions are of every kind, ana have every
conceivable sort of history. Some were planted for trade,
some for the maintenance of naval supremacy. Some were
peaceably colonised by adventurous voyagers; some were
captured iii war, or extorted when making peace. They vary
from the barren rock of Gibraltar to the spicy groves and
plantations of Ceylon ; from the crumbling rabbit-warren of
Heligoland to the vast continent of Australia.
Sir Walter Raleigh was the first Englishman who conceived
the idea of a great British Colonial empire. The discoveries
of Spain fired him with emulation, and something more. It
must be confessed that his expeditions will not bear scmtiny.
The colonist of Raleigh's time was little better than a pirate.
Success alone even in that by no means strict age could
justify some of the measures taken by the searchers after El
Dorado. Chatham, the other English statesman to whom
England is, after Raleigh, most indebted for her colonies, alsa
acquired them mainly by force ; but he won them in regular
wfittfare, by the aid of lawfully commissioned ships and
enlisted troops; not through the lawless attacks of buc-
caneers. The first colonists were private companies,
which, having obtained royal letters patent, took possession
on their own account, appointed their own forms of govern-
ment and rulers, and were virtually independent of their
Sovereign. But this mode of colonisation was absolutely
disastrous to the aborigines. So covetous, so cruel were the
settlers, that they womd have exterminated the original in-
habitants speedily and entirely if the Crown had not at last
stepped in and declared that these had rights which must be
The British Colonies. 3
respected. The colonists themselves fonnd the intervention
of the Crown advantageous^ since it was a guarantee that they
would not be ejected by the next new comer. A colony
of a few dozen Englishmen was no match for a French
squadron ; but the second might be defied with safety when
the first knew that the British Government would fight in
their behalf. Some of the earliest colonies were indeed
founded as a protest against British rule, and these preserved
an almost entire independence^ until an obstinate King and
an unwilling minister made that independence complete.
But with these colonies, the United States of to-day, we are
not concerned. In the others, in those which still belong to
us, not only was the connection with the Crown maintained,
but the English constitution was adopted as the type of
government. There was a miniature Parliament — ^wiili king
(represented by the governor), lords (represented by the
legislative council), and commons (represented by the legisla-
tive assembly). The great distance at which many of the
colonies were, made them virtually independent of the
Sovereign. They were, in fact, self-governed. In some cases
where the Home Government attempted to interfere, re-
sistance, either passive or active, was successfully ofiered.
This was done even in those colonies which were not originally
settled by Englishmen, but were obtained by conquest from
other nations, and as such were called Crown colonies, and
governed more immediately from England. It is only, how-^
ever, within the last thirty-five years that the present degree
of independence has been obtained. For a long period
anterior to that, the dominion of the Crown in colonies
acquired by conquest or cession was absolute, and the-
authority of the Colonial Office was exercised directly, by
instructions to the governors. In tree colonies it was exer-^
cised indirectly through the influence of the governors and
their councils. Self-government, as Sir Erskine May remarks^
was there the theory, but in practice, the governors, aided by
dominant interests in the several colonies, continued to
fovem according to the policy dictated from Downing-street.
ust as at home, the Crown, the nobles, and an ascendant
party were supreme in . the national councils, — so in the
colonies, the governors and their official aristocracy were
generally able to command the adhesion of the local Legisla-
tures. A more direct interference was often exercised, and
constant misunderstandings arose about such subjects as the
grants of land to the colonists, the church endowments,
official salaries, and patronaee. The last was especially the
source of strife. Infants in the cradle were appointed to well
4 The BrUiih Colonies.
paid posts^ the dnties of whicli were performed by deputies^ and
the salaries of which were provided by the colonists, but were
for the most part spent out of the colonies. The scandal was
intolerable, and the Home Government had to make its first
concession by surrendering to the colonial governors all
appointments under £200 a year. This was but the beginning
of the new regime. It soon became necessary to grant
representative institutions; and, these obtained, it was speedily
found essential that the governor should be a constitutional
ruler, and should dismiss lus ministers when they no longer had
the confidence of the people. In this way the British colonies
became even more democratic than the United States. The
president's fixed tenure of office and large executive powers,
the independent position and authority of the Senate, and the
control of the Supreme Court, are checks upon the democracy
of Congress. But in our colonies the majority of the demo-
cratic assembly, for the time being, are absolute masters of the
Colonial Grovemment ; they can overcome the resistance of the
legislative council, and dictate conditions to the governor,
and, indirectly, to the parent State. Not content with this
degree of democracy, the South Australian colonies attempted
for a time to rule with only one chamber. This attempt was,
however, soon abandoned, and these colonies now have three
estates, as the mother country has, the Sovereign being
represented by the Governor, and the House of Peers by the
Legislative Council, with this important difierence, that the
Council is an elected body.
Another cause which led to the independence of the
colonies was the adoption of free trade by Great Britain. It
used to be assumed as a politico-economical axiom that this
country ought to encourage and develope its c6lonies by levy-
ing heavy duties on the produce of other countries; while
that of the colonies came in duty free, or, at least, subject to
a much lighter duty. Viewed strictly, this was really nothing
less than taxing the people of England so many millions a
year in order that Jamaica sugar growers and Canadian
timber merchants might grow rich. At the very time that
this was being done, English taxpayers were called upon to
bear a still further burden by having to provide for the defence
of the colonies. The semi-paupers of Bethnal Green and St,
Giles's have been taxed to pay the cost of the wars brought
about by the land gluttony of New Zealand settlers, and
the wages of the troops who have been idling on the heights
of Montreal or within the battlements of Quebec. With no
Sower on the part of England to tax the colonies, the colonies
avo had virtually for many years the power to tax England.
The British Oglotiies, 5
It is true, no donbt, that the colonies, being unwillingly
involved in England^s quarrels, had a claim upon her for pro-
tection. In the ^ Trent ' business, for instance, the dispute was
entirely between the mother country and the United States ;
and yet the war, if war there had been, would have been
fought on Canadian ground. In that case England was bound
to send the aid she did. It is by no means certain that she
was bound to pay for it. It might fairly have been argued that
this exposure to war was one of the conditions of the arrange-
ment by which the colonies remained united to England;
England being ready to maintain a standing army at her own
cost, available for the defence of the colonies, when they
required it, only with the understanding that when engaged
in the service of the colonies, the colonies should pay for such
troops as they required. This, in fact, is the principle which
has been for many years in force in India, which has lately
been applied to New Zealand, and which the present Govern-
ment is extending to other colonies. Moreover, it must bo
remembered that the condition which we have been considering
is exceptional. The rule has been that even when there has
been no prospect of war, a larere force has been maintained in
the colonies at the expense of the English taxpayer. The
troops so used have really been acting as police, and the first
duty of every community, that of keeping order among its
own people, has been imposed upon us by the colonies in
their own behalf. It is not surprising that among the first
reductions efiected by a ministry which had for one of the
chief subjects of its programme financial reform, should be
the military expenditure of Great Britain upon her colonies.
The only cause for surprise is that the present system, so
grievously unfair to our own population, should have been
endured so long. The marvel is all the greater, because the
colonies have shown a disposition to take care of themselves
at our expense, — a disposition manifested in the protective
duties laid upon British produce. On this point we shall
presently have to speak more fully.
According to the 'Colonial Office List' for 1869, which of
course does not concern itself with India, 'Her Majesty^s
Colonial Possessions' are forty-eight in number. Of these,
three (Gibraltar, Heligoland, and Malta and Gozo) are in
Europe ; four (Ceylon, Hong Kong, the Straits Settlements,
and Labuan) are in Asia ; eight (Cape of Good Hope, Gambia,
Gold Coast, Lagos, Natal, St. Helena, Sierra Leone, and
Mauritius) are in Africa; ten (Bermuda, British Columbia,
the two Canadas, New Brunswick, Newfoundland, Nova
Scotia, Prince Edward Island, British Guiana, and tlii^ ^^&l-
6 7U BnKA CoIa»Je#.
hud I^aaids^ sre reckisied ss in America; there are sixteen
Kpirafie ccfesss m die Wess Indies ; and nnder the term
Aascn&a sre jirfftafai seren colonies (Sew South Wales^
Tact^cra^ i^Kee^uxdy Tasmania, South Australia, Western
AoflfiraJSa^ aztd New Zealand). The population of these
cdcaaes si i«i oaeqaaDr distributed. Queensland, with an
ac«a cf ST^^^yi) <ipas« mDes, more than twice the area of any
cciaflr cckuj. has a population of less than 90,000; while
CMca^ wish as. area of only 24,700 square mileB, less than a
nmsj--£^ cf Q^KOisland, has more than two million in-
ki&csHBSSw TW two maj be taken as extreme instances of the
wiaetr diJoenr trpes which prevail in our colonies. Queens-
kttd w^s settled as lately as 1859, has little native population,
azfi is so &r an almost purely pastoral colony. Ceylon, on
tk» ct&^ hand, came to us by capitulation in 1 796, and had
K(«n colonised by the Dutch many years prior to that date ;
its population contains but some 3,000 Europeans (1,500 of
l&iNii Svxidiers, and 250 civil officials), to more thaoi two
cutKon natives, and the country is covered with plantations
and forests. In fact, Queensland is a settlement in the
strictest sense of the word, while Ceylon is a colony of the
old Soman and present Indian type, where the ' colonists '
are, though a mere fraction of the population, rulers over the
countiT and the people.
Extensive as our colonies are, it is only very recently that
they have formed a separate department of State. It is true
that just a century ago, in 1768, a Secretary of State for the
American or Colonial Department was appointed, in addition
to the two principal Secretaries of State then existing, but
this new office was abolished in 1782, for it was in that year
England acknowledged the independence of the late American
colonies, and the others scarcely needed a special department
of State to administer their affairs. These affairs and those
of Ireland were handed over to the Home Secretary. There
were only two Secretaries of State for twelve years. In 1794
^•e were engaged in the unjustifiable war with the French
republic, which, as Mr. Cobden has shewn, that State did its
utmost to prevent. The straggle was a tremendous one, and
it was deemed advisable to appoint a Secretary of State for
War. To him, in the year 1801, was assigned the superin-
tendence of the colonies. For rather more than half a century
the arrangement continued. By the end of that time the
oolonies hiul so increased in importance that they demanded
jexolusive attention of the Secretary. This he had been
wen able to give, because for many years his ^ost as
of War had been almost a sinecure. But when
The British Colonies. 7
England ' drilled ^ into the Bussian war^ it was found abso-
lutely necessary to separate the departments ; so for the first
time since we lost our American colonies a Minister sat in the
Cabinet to represent colonial interests alone. It was not till
four years after this that our infinitely more populous Indian
Empire was thought worthy of the same representation. A
European war was needed to place the colonies in their proper
relation to Parliament, and it required a terrible mutiny to
achieve the same result for India. It is consolatory to think
that having during the last seventy-five years appointed
successively Secretaries of State for War, the Colonies, and
India, our next appointment of that kind will be one which
England will hail with unmixed satisfaction, one in which, far
more than the others, they wiU be interested, a Secretary of
State for Education.
The Colonial Office consists at the present time of the fol-
lowing officers. There is, first, a Secretary of State, Earl
GranviUe ; then there are three under Secretaries of State,
one of them, Mr. Monsell, representing the department in
Parliament, and liable to removal with a change of Govern-
ment ; the others. Sir Frederic Eogers and Sir Francis
Sandford, being permanent. With these four chief executive
officers is associated Mr. Thurston Howard, as legal adviser.
The next class on the establishment contains the clerks^
arranged in five orders of gradation, from Mr. Gordon
Gairdner, the chief clerk, who has been in the service for more
than forty-five years, and Mr. Henry Taylor, the poet, first
of the senior clerks, who entered the service at the same time
OS Mr. Gairdner, down to the assistant junior clerks. This
list comprises twenty-four names. There are other gentlemen
who hold special offices ; and besides these are supplementary
clerks, copyists, &c. The total number of officials, from the
Secretary of State to the extra office porter, is sixty-eight.
The office is divided into departments. The first, presided
over by Mr. Gairdner, deals with the domestic and financial
arrangements of the Office Commissioners, charters, warrants,
receipts, and payments in the colonies, and miscellaneous
business. Mr. Henry Taylor, known to the world as the
author of ' Philip van Artevelde,' and many other books in
verse and prose, presides over the West Indian department ;
and Sir George Barrow over the African and Mediterranean
department. The others are named the Eastern, the North
American and Australian, the Librarian, the Parliamentaryj
and the Begistry departments. These shew the work that is
done inside the Colonial Office. But there are many other
posts outside lihe office. Without attempting to enumerate
8 The British Colonies.
the host of officialfl in the colonies themselves^ there are eleyeii
Colonial Land and Emigration Commissioners^^ fifteen Emi-
gration OflScers, and two Crown Agents for the colonies. It
•hould be added that all the Foreign Consuls appointed by
other countries in our colonies come under the cognisance of
the Colonial Office.
The oldest but one of our present colonies is the Bermudas,
It was acquired by settlement in 1609. Admiral Sir Greorgp
Somers was shipwrecked there on his way to Virginia. On his
report, the Virginia Company claimed the islands, and obtained
a grant from James I. in 1612. This company sold their
right for £2,000 to an association of 120 persons, who became
incorporated as the Bermuda Company in 1616. The ex-
tensive powers conferred by their charter were so much abused
that it was annulled in 1684, and the colony has since then
been governed by the Crown. Early in the present century
the importance of the Bermudas as a naval station became
apparent, and a dock-yard was established there. Convicts
were kept at hard labour on the public works, but the colony
was never made a penal settlement, nor were convicts allowed
to be discharged there. The establishment was broken up in
1863. One act of the colonists deserves special mention. On the
abolition of slavery in 1834, the system of temporary appren-
ticeship of the emancipated slaves, permitted by the Act of
Parliament in the slave-holding colonies, was dispensed with,
and the slaves there obtained their freedom six years sooner
than the time prescribed by the home Legislature. The
sixteen West Indies include three sorts of colonies, single
islands such as Antigua and Barbadoes, groups of islands
such as the Bahamas and the Virgin Islands, and continental
territory such as Honduras in Central America. The im-
portance of these colonies is to be estimated by population
rather than area. Honduras, which contains 13,500 square
miles, has but 25,635 inhabitants, while Jamaica, with less
than half the surface, has over 440,000. These colonies were
obtained in three ways : by settlement, by capitulation during
war, and by cession according to treaties usually made at the
end of a war. In the possession of tho two latter class of
West Indian colonies we have been preceded chiefly by the
Spaniards and the French, but also in one instance, Tobago,
by tho Dutch. As a rule these colonies cannot be described
as prosperous. Jamaica, the chief of them, has long been
in a languishing state, the taint of slavery being here
particularly hard to eradicate. Both the imports and the
exports have fallen off of late years, and the public debt
has increased until it now stands at over £788,000. The
The British Colonies. 9
most prosperous of the islands is Barbadoes, which, with a
population only one-third of that in Jamaica, imports nearly,
and exports more than, three times as much as Jamaica.
African labourers were long ago introduced into Barbadoes,
and seem much more energetic and capable of working than
the Jamaica negro. Mr. Trollope, in his West Indies and the
Spanish Main, has spoken most highly of the condition and
prospects of the smaller islands, while of the larger he takes
a gloomy view.
Our three European settlements came to us in two instances
by capture, in one by cession. Gibraltar was conquered in
1704, and has a tetal population of about 22,000, whereof
6,600 are military. Of late an animated discussion has been
maintained in the newspapers as to the cession of this famous
stronghold. It is a significant fact that this discussion was
raised first in the columns of a Conservative paper, at that time
an organ of the Government. But after a good deal of cor-
respondence, the conclusion seems to be that we are not
capable of so much magnanimity as would be required in
surrendering this trophy of our military prowess. Its use as
a military and naval station has been gravely questioned by
the most eminent authorities. The cost of maintaining a
garrison there may well be taken into account in these days
of retrenchment. We know also that the port is used largely
by smugglers for evading the Spanish customs' duties. Some
writers have been bold enough to appeal to our sense of
justice, and to ask how we should view the occupation of
Portland by a Spanish force. But the leading journal has
denounced ^sentiment' in politics, that is, so far as the
sentiment of other nations is concerned. The same journal
does not hesitate to appeal to British sentiment by asking
how we could suffer so glorious a memorial of our military
achievements to pass from us. The time is not yet come, it
seems, for ' the golden rule ' to be applied to foreign politics,
for nations, as well as individuals, to acknowledge the duty
of doing unto others as they would that others should do unto
them. Malta, though obtained like Gibraltar, by conquest,
is not like Gibraltar, a badge of conquest, nor a perpetual
source of humiliation and annoyance. Malta was taken in
1800 from the French, who had captured it two years before.
The Maltese enjoy free institutions, and are on the whole well
satisfied with our rule. A large number of government posts
are held by the native inhabitants, and the commerce which
we carry on with the island is an important source of wealth.
Heligoland, the smallest of Her Majesty's colonial possessions,
being but one-eighth of a square mile in area, was ceded to
10 The British Colonies.
US in 1814. It is raled on mucli tlie same principle as Malta.
There is an English Goyemor^ and the natives are associated
with him in the council. The inhabitants formerly depended
solely upon fishing, but since 1830 the island has become a
fashionable bathing place. The old seafaring population is
rapidly decreasing. The Heligolanders now deTOte them-
selves to building and letting lodging-houses^ and they live
during the winter on the harvest they have gained in the
summer. The only article of export is the oyster, but the
bank has become so deteriorated from irregular fishing that it
has been found necessary to give it rest.
Our Asiatic possessions, exclusive of India, contain about
one-fourth of our colonial population. Ceylon we have already
mentioned. Hong Kong is one of the islands called by the
Portuguese discoverers, Ladronei, from the number of thieves
found there. It is separated from China by a strait of only
half-a-mile in width, and the opposite peninsula has been ceded
to us by Lord Elgin^s treaty of 1861, and now forms part of
the colony. Hong Kong itself was ceded in 1841, and has
been a costly possession. It ofiers one of the finest harbours
and some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. The
English and other European merchants grow rich herOj^ and
their substantial houses make Victoria a very handsome city.
The tonnage has increased from 626,536 in 1859 to 2,562,528
in 1867. The Chinese population, which is about sixty times
as large as the European and American, shares in the pros-
perity. Labuan, like Hong Kong, is an island settlement,
and is off the coast of Borneo- It was ceded to us in 1846 hy
the Sultan of BrunL It is valuable to us chiefly for its coal,
which is much used by vessels trading between China and
Singapore. The population in 1867 was of whites (including
military and convicts) 45, of coloured 3,783, the men being
twice as numerous as the women. Though so small a settle-
ment, it has had two distinguished men among its governorSj
Sir James Brooke and Sir William Napier. The present
governor, Mr. Pope Hennessy, is notorious rather than
distinguished. He receives the 'sufficient allowance of
£1,100 a year for ruling a population equal to that
of an English village. This same population rejoices
also in a bishop. The Straits Settlements, consisting of
Singapore, Penang, and Malacca, were transferred fipom the
control of the Indian Government to that of the Colonial
Office, April 1, 1867. Singapore is an island at the southern
extremity of the Malayan peninsula. Penang is a smaller
island off the west coast of the same peninsula. Malacca is
*on that coast, and consists of a strip of territory 42 miles in
The British Colonies. 11
lengtli and from 8 to 24| in breadth. This last is one of the
oldest European settlements in the East, having been taken
by the Portuguese in 1511 ; since then it has been held at
intervals by the Dutch aiid ourselves until 1824, when it was
finally ceded to us. Penang was ceded by the rajah of the
neighbouring territory in 1786. Singapore was taken
possession of by Sir Stamford Baffles in 1819. Formerly
these settlements used to be the great entrepots of commerce
in that region. There was subsequently a great decline, yet
even now the imports and the exports are each nearly ten
millions annually.
QueenYictoria^s subjects on the continent of Africa are abont
1,200,000 in number. The Cape of Good Hope has nearly
half-a-million of these. This name, originally applied to a
small promontory, now includes a district comprising 188,286
square miles. The colony has been held in turn by the Portu-
guese (its discoverers), the Dutch, and ourselves. After
having been recaptured and restored to us, it was finally
ceded to us by the treaty of 1815. The colony is ruled after
the English pattern, and, since the Kaffir wars were stopped,
has been fairly prosperous. The adjacent colony of Katal
has yet to be developed. Becently, attention has been
directed to it by the report of gold discoveries. It
does not seem, however, that these are of any importance.
Natal is a solitary instance of a colony established by Great
Britain without use to the Imperial funds. In its early
days it had a loan of £10,000, which has long since
been repaid. It was taken possession of about thirty
years ago, in consequence of the frequent collisions
which occurred between the Gape Government and the
Dutch Boers. The Mauritius colony comprises the island of
Mauritius (so called after Prince Maurice by the first Dutch
settlers), the island of Bodriguez, the Seychelles, and a few
other islands. This colony is scattered over a wide area; the
Seychelles being 940 miles distant from Mauritius. The last
mentioned island was captured by us in 1810, and our
possession of it was ratified by the treaty of 1814. Mauritius
has obtained a sad prominence lately by reason of the fever,
which has destroyed a large portion of the population, and
which even now is scourging the island. The colony is im-
portant to us, as it forms a port of refuge to our ships trading
from India to England round the Gape. The population is
about 327,000. Our oldest African settlement is Gfambia,
which came into our possession in 1631. Gambia, Sierra
Leone, Gape Goast Gastle, and Lagos constitute the group
called the West- African settlements. Sierra Laotvi^ \&^^
12 The British Colonies.
most important of tho four settlements^ and is the central sa«fr
of gOTernment. Each settlement has a legislatiye connoiL
Originally, the older settlements were established to carrj on
the slaye trade. They are now held to prevent that trade.
Under these circumstances it is the more worthy of mention
that the civil war in the United States, which led to the
abolition of slavery there, has led to the increased cultivation
of cotton in the West- African settlements. Besides cotton
we derive from them ivory and palm-oil. St. Helena has the
same history as most of our African colonies. It was dis-
covered by the Portuguese, colonised by the Dutch, and taken
from them by ourselves. It is little more than a port of
call, where vessels may water and take fresh provisions, on
their way between England and India. Wa need scarcely
remind our readers that it derives its chief celebrity from the
fact that it was for six years the prison of the first Napoleon-
Our American possessions are the largest in the world.
They stretch from the borders of the United States far into
the frigid zone. It is impossible to form any approximate
idea of the area. The greater portion^ however, is wholly
uninhabitable, and even less useful to us than Alaska
was to the Russians. The total number of our American
subjects is under four millions, albeit they are spread over the
whole land from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The oldest of
all our colonics is Newfoundland. It is the only one which
dates back to the sixteenth century. Raleigh attempted to
colonise it, but in vain. Lord Baltimore was more successful-
In spite of its ago, it was the last of our North American
colonies to receive a responsible government. This was
granted so recently as 1855. During the last two years an
attempt has been made to induce Newfoundland to enter the
confederation. This and the adjacent Prince Edward Island
still held aloof until a month ago. The papers of March 8th
announced that Newfoundland had decided by a large
majority to join the confederation, and no doubt Prince
Edward Island will adopt the same course. Up to a very
late period they were encouraged in their resistance by Nova
Scotia ; but a post having been found for the clever leader
of the Nova Scotian opponents to confederation, he has
become converted to the scheme, the opposition has col-
lapsed, and it is now probable that all the British provinces
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the Island of New-
foundland to Vancouver Island, will form one enormous
association, with power to use the troops of any one in
the defence of any other province, and with power to
combine for the construction of great public works in
The British OoUmies. 13
whicb all are interested. The scheme is at least grand;
whether it will prove capable of realisation is doubted by
many persons. For instance, it is doubted if the sparsely
populated British colonies could successfully defend them-
selves against an invasion by the United States, and whether
they will over do more than talk of that project, long dreamt
of, a line of railway which would unite the two oceans and
cause the trade of China to pass through British America on
its way to England. On the other hand, their neighbours are
realising their own project with the most marvellous rapidity.
The railway which will join New York and San Francisco is
being laid down at the rate of three or four miles a day, and will
be finished iu less than a year from this time. There are other
considerations which render it questionable if our American
colonies would not be more prosperously ruled from Wash-
ington than from London. Hitherto the Canadians, especially,
have shewn themselves greatly averse from such a trans-
ference of sovereignty. They have professed to fear the
burden of taxation wluch would be laid upon them by annex-
ation. On the other hand, it is likely that they would receive
more than an equivalent in the stimulus which would be given
to trade and public works. England has done nothing for
these colonies but keep troops there ; and when these are
withdrawn we must expect to see a considerable diminution
of the * loyalty' which has hitherto been expressive enough in
words, but in deeds has shewn itself by the taxing of English
imports. It is a notable circumstance, one which certainly
does not speak much for the prosperity of our American
colonies, that by far the larger number of British emigrants
to America choose the United States, with their heavy tax-
ation, in preference to the ' dominion of Canada,' with its
light taxation and close relationship to the mother country.
We come to the last and most important group of colonies,
those which we may, for the sake of convenience, compress
under the name Australasia, a term, however, unknown at
the antipodes, and not used in the Colonial Office List. There
are seven of these colonies, with a total population of
1,600,000. The oldest is New South Wales, on the eastern
coast of the Australian continent. It was discovered by the
Spaniards in 1609, explored by Captain Cook in 1770,
and settled in 1789. Until 1851 it included the district then
separated from it and formed into a separate colony under the
name of Victoria. Tasmania, discovered in 1642 by Tasman,
was made an English penal settlement in 1803, and continued
so until 1853. Western Australia was settled in 1829, and
has been as unsuccessful as Victoria has been successful.
14 The British Colonies.
With a fine climate and fertile soil, its popnlation, after forty
years^ colonisation, is under 19,000, while ttat of Victoria is
about 630,000. South Australia was settled in 1836 by
emigrants sent out under the auspices of the South Australian
Colonisation Association. The lands were granted by the
Government to this company on the conditions that they
should be lold at not less than £1 per acre, and that the
revenue arising from the sale should be appropriated to the
emigration of agricultural labourers. In the last nine years
the combined exports and imports of this colony have doubled.
New Zealand was explored by Tasman and Cook, and was
settled in 1814, but no colonisation took place until 18S9.
The combined exports and imports have increased from
£801,000 in 1853 to about £10,000,000 in 1867.
Concerning these antipodean colonies two books of great
interest have lately been published. One is, 'Grreater
Britain,' by Mr. Charles Wentworth Dilke, who in 1866 and
1867 supplemented his university education by a tour round
the world. The other is, 'Another England/ by Mr. Carbon
Booth, who for some years held a post under the Victoria
Government. Mr. Dilke's volumes are one of the best books
of travel published for many years, and they shew an acute-
ness of observation and originality of thought not often found
in a man on the sunny side of five and twenty. Traversing
first the North American continent, then touching the
Mexican coast, he travelled by the Panama route to New
Zealand. His estimate of this 'England of the Pacific/
as it has been called, is not very high. He doubts greatly
if the title will ever be fairly earned. At present there is
great rivalry between the difierent provinces, and even
between the difierent towns. He found a want of energy on
the part of the colonists. Business that would be transacted
in England in a day, takes a week at the antipodes. The
Maori struggle, again and again renewed, has been a great
dndn upon the resources of the colony, and is likefy to
continue so for some time longer, according to present
appearances. But Mr. Dilke has no doubt that the native
race will, as in most other instances, give place to the
colonists. He was especially struck by the absence of any-
thing like solidarity between New Zealand and the Anstraliaii
colonies. He says :—
' Australana is a term much used at home to express the whole of our antipodeaii
possessions ; in the colonies themselves the name is almost unknown, or, if used,
u meant to emhraoe Australia and Tasmania, not Australia and New Zealaad.
The only reference to New Zealand, except in the way of foreign news, that I erer
found in an Australian newspaper was a congratulatory paragraph on the amount
of the New Zealand debt; toe only allusion to Australia that 1 detected in thot
The British Colonies, 15
Wellington Independent was in a glance at the futnre of the colony, in which
the editor predicted the advent of a time when New Zealand would be a nayal
nation, and her fleet engaged in bombarding Melbourne, or IcTjing contributions
upon Sjdney.' — Greater Britain, yoI. ii., p. 4.
Mr. Dilke goes on to shew that, politically, there is little in
common between the two countries, for, while New Sonth
Wales and Victoria are mainly democratic. New Zealand is
essentially aristocratic. Moreoyer, the distance between them
is too great for them to be considered as, in any sense, one.
New Zealand and Australia are as completely separated from
each other as Great Britain and Massachusetts. The distance
between the two nearest points of land is greater than
that between London and Algiers. From Wellington to
Sydney, the nearest port, is as far as from Manchester to
Iceland, or from Africa to Brazil. The sea that lies between
the two countries is not like the Central or North Pacific,
bridged with islands, ruffled with trade winds, or overspread
with a calm that permits the presence of light-draught paddle
steamers. It is cold, bottomless, without islands, torn by
antarctic currents, swept by polar gales, and trayersed in aU
weathers by a mountainous swell. In climate, ethnography,
soil, and physicid configuration, the countries are entirely
unlike. Nor is it only the native races that differ. The
Australian colonist is all energy, in spite of his tropical
climate. The New Zealand colonist is all torpor, in spite of his
equable climate. After this it seems somewhat contradictory
to say, as Mr. Dilke does, that while the second is physically
the perfection of the English race, ' burly, bearded, strapping,^
the first gives greater promise of intellect, and claims to be
the ancient Greek revived. Torpor and indolence are not
usually the accompaniments of physical strength. K there
are differences thus important between the Australians and
the New Zealanders, there are others scarcely loss so between
the various sections of the Australians. The history of the
colonies explains these differences. New South Wales, as we
have seen, was bom in 1788, Queensland in 1859, and they
stand side by side upon the map and have a common frontier of
700 miles. The New South Welsh cast jealous glances towards
the more recently founded States. It was long before they
would consent to the separation of Yictoria from their colony,
and for some time the gold diggings of Bendigo and Ballarat
had to pay tribute for the benefit of the townsfolk of Sydney.
Since the separation, Yictoria has become the most flourishing
colony in the world. The progress of Queensland is not
likely to be so rapid. The climate is different, the products
are different. Victoria exports gold, Queensland spices.
16 The British Colonies.
Yictoria is likely to become a conntry of large cities. Queens-
land is not likely to be anytbiog else tlian a pastoral and
agricaltural country. Queensland is exposed to a special
danger from the fact that in the sugar and cotton culture
coloured labour is now ahnost exclusively employed, with the
usual effect of degrading field-work in the eyes of European
settlers and of fixing upon the country an aristocratic type of
society. Mr. Dilke prophesies that if the neighbouring colonies
do not interfere to prevent the importation of dark-skinned
labourers into Queensland, as they interfered to prevent the
importation of criminals into West Australia, a few years wiU
see Queensland a wealthy cotton and sugar growing countiy,
with all the vices of a slave-holding government, though
without the name of slavery. The planters will govern
Queensland and render union with the free colonies im-
possible, unless great gold discoveries take place to save the
country to AustraUa. He adds : —
*Such is the present rapidity of the growth and rise to power of iropiotl
Queensland, such the apparent poverty otaew South Wales, Uiat were the question
merely one between the Sydney wheat growers and the cotton planters of Bris-
bane and Bockhampton, the sub-tropical settlers would be as certain of the fore-
most position in any future confraeration as they were in America when tfaa
struggle lay only between the Caroh'nas and New England. As it is, just ■«
America was first saved by the coal of Pennsylvania and Ohio, Australia wiU ba
saved by the ooal of New South Wales. Queensland possesses some small stores
of coal, but the vast preponderance of acreage of the great power of the future lies
in New South Wales.' — Greater Britain, voL ii., p. 17.
Coal is far better than gold. Gold will prnduce the more
rapid results, but coal the more lasting. Moreover, the gold
discoveries of Victoria, wonderfully as they have changed the
face of that colony, were attended with a terrible amount ot
misery and an appalling amount of wickedness. The first
effect of these discoveries was the invasion of the colony by
hundreds of ticket- of-leave and conditionally-pardoned men.
They numbered in their ranks (says Mr. Booth) men who
had committed every mentionable and unmentionable crime
with which the earth has been cursed. They were a terror to
all around. Murders were of nightly occurrence. The police
were powerless, were indeed hopelessly corrupt, and connived
at the crimes which they were sent to repress. Government
oflBcials were equally depraved. The successful diggers
returning to Melbourne, made that city the high place of
debauchery. Other evils followed. The sudden immigration
of so many persons led to rash and speculative over-trading,
English merchants were told that they might send out any-
thing to Australia, and following that advice they exported so
largely that their goods became unsaleable. The fame of the
The British Colonies. 17
gold diggings allured emigrants as little wanted as the goods.
Those who could do nothing at home went out with the idea
that gold was to be picked up by merely stooping for it. Too
often, useless men who had never handled pick or spade,
broken down doctors, briefless barristers, unsuccessful literary
men, their wives and children with them, added ta
the population of paupers thus suddenly concentrated in
Melbourne. The Government did what it could for themy
erected tents for them to take shelter in, and thus while th»
splendid city of Melbourne was rising day by day with ther
rapidity of a fairy town, though with none of its unsubstan-
tiality — ^while Melbourne shopkeepers were becoming mer-
chants, Melbourne merchants princes — there was, close by,
' Canvas Town,^ a town of tents, containing as much hopeless
poverty as was to be found in any part of the world. Even
those who prospered gave themselves up to dissipation, and
four out of every five children died before reaching two years
of age. At length the crisis came. The mad rush of 1853
was followed by the terrible collapse of 1854. A letter
written in the December of that year by a Melbourne merchant
stated that everybody had either failed, or was about to do so.
'Reckless trading and bad government,^ says Mr. Booth, 'had
in one short twelve-month reduced the country from a state
of unexampled prosperity and riches to one of insolvency and
rebellion.^ A rebellion was caused by the license fees
demanded by the Government from all diggers. This demand
led to an armed conflict between the diggers and the military
sent out to enforce payment. The result was that the
Government had to give way. All the time that the old
colonists and the new immigrants were thus hasting to be
rich, and in many cases drowning themselves in perdition,
one of the most important sources of wealth was culpably
neglected. The land was in the hands of a few squatters.
They held nearly the whole of the best soil of the colony, and
paid for it a rental of only £20,000. In 1867 one-third of
the lands produced a revenue of £175,000. The squatters
profited little by their covetousness. Insisting that the soil
was good only for pastoral purposes, they occupied enormous
tracts with a few sheep and cattle. It was in 1860 that the
colonial democracy of Melbourne first shewed a due appre-
ciation of this state of things. In Victoria, and also in New
South Wales, act after act was passed to encourage agricul-
tural settlers on freehold tenure, at the expense of the pastoral
squatters. In the latter colony, the settler may buy a patch
of land in the midst of a squatter^s run if he commences to
cultivate it at once. The squatting license system ends entirely
Vol. 12.— No. 45. B
18 The British Colonies.
this year ; copseqaentlj, amid mucli grambling, the sqitatters
have been purchasing the land which they once annexed.
The first result of the new system has been that Victoria has
ceased to be a wheat-importing^ and has become a wheat-
exporting country. Another result is^ that the term sqoatter
is passing through a rapid change of meaning. In 1837 the
squatters were defined by the Chief Justice of New South
Wales as people occupying lands without legal title, and
subject to a fine on discovery. They were described as Uyin^
by bartering rum with convicts for stolen goods, and as bein^
themselves invariably convicts or expirees. ' Escaping sud-
denly from these low associations,^ says Mr. Dilke, ' the word
came to be applied to graziers who drove their flocks into an
unsettled interior, and thence to those of them who received
leases from the Grown of pastural land.^ The squatter is now
the nab.ob of Melbourne and Sydney ; the inexhaustible mine
of wealth. He patronises balls, promenades, concerts, and
flower-shows ; he is the mainstay of the ereat clubs, the joy
of the shopkeepers^ the good angel of the hotels ; without him.
the opera could not be kept up, and the jockey club woold
die a natuiul death. His period of all but supreme sovereignty
is come to an end ; yet he will no doubt continue to make
squatting in the modem meaning of the word as profitable as
it was in its original sense.
There is one subject in which we are no less interested
than the colonists. It is one which is likely to become more
prominent every year, and to lead to important results. We
mean protection. We have already seen that protection in
one form was the means originally adopted to foster onr
colonies, and attach them to the mother country. Protection
in another form is doing more than anything else to detach
them. Of old we taxed the imports of other nations heavily,
in order that colonial imports might have the advantage over
them in our markets. That system has long been abandoned,
on the ground that we have no right to tax the English
multitude for the sake of the few colonists. It has been
abandoned also in the full belief that a perfectly firee market
is best for consumers and producers; yet the colonists
liave lately taken to laying almost prohibitory duties on
British imports. Their return for the help we give them in
the shape of Biitish troops, is the discouragement of British
trade to their ports. And this is done not by one colony
only. It is done in Canada as well as in Australia. It is
done, too, in a country which of all others we might have
expected to find the home of firee trade, the United States.
It is done not ignorantly, not through any lingering bdief in
The Briidsh Colonies. 19
the old politico-economical fkUacj tliat tlie producer^ not
the consumer, pays the duty; the Enghslunan, not the
colonist. How has this change come about ? How is it that in
these days, when the doctrine of free trade is taken by us so
entirely for granted that we have not the patience to argue
the matter, the colonists, who are every bit as enlightened as
ourselves, are eager Protectionists ? Mr. Dilke tells us that
in the Lower House of the Victorian Legislature the free
traders formed but three-elevenths of the assembly, and in
New South Wales the pastoral tenants are the only sup-
porters of free trade. He tells us that he found colonial
shopkeepers exhorting, by advertisement, their customers to
'shew their patriotism, and buy colonial goods ;^ and that
whereas in England unscrupulous traders write, 'From Paris/
over their English goods, in Victoria they write, 'Warranted
colonial made,^ over imported wares ; for many will pay a
higher price for a colonial product, confessedly not more than
equal to foreign, such is the rage for native industry ; such
the hatred of the ' antipodean doctrine of free trade.' Shew to
the colonists that their doctrine involves them in pecuniary
loss, and they will admit it ; but they are ready to incur it in
order that they may help to build up the colony. Moreover,
they beKeve that though there is a loss on that and similar
transactions, protection brings them a profit in the long run.
It checks immigration. Wages being 5s. a day in Victoria
and 3s. in England, workmen would naturally flock into
Victoria until wages fall to 3s. 6d. or 4s. Here comes in
protection, and by increasing the cost of living in Victoria,
and cutting into the Australian handicraftsman's margin of
luxuries, diminishes the temptation to immigration, and, con-
sequently, the influx itself. It might be argued that there is
small advantage in maintaining high wages, if money will
purchase fewer commodities than in England. In Western
America the farmers, who in most countries are the protec-
tionists, while in Australia they are the free traders, admit
that free trade would lead to the more rapid populating
of their country; but that, they say, is just what they
would prevent. They would rather pay a heavy tax in
the increased price of everything they consume, or in the
greater cost of labour, than see their country denationalised
by a rush of Irish or Germans, or their political institu-
tions endangered by a still further increase in the size
and power of New York. One old American remarked to
Mr. Dilke, 'I don't want the Americans in 1900 to be two
hundred millions, but I want them to be happy.' Without
protection, it is contended, the United States would have \i<;^
20 The British Colonies.
mannfactiires^ would be a purely a^cultural country in tlie
interior, with a few large cities on tte coast. Moreover,
the protectionists wish to be defended from the pauper
labour of England. They look forward to the time when,
having passed through the state of pupilage^ their manufac-
tures will no longer require protection — ^when, local centres
being everywhere established, customs will be abolished on
every side, and mankind form one family. Time passes
quickly in the United States, at all events, and though in
1866 Mr. Dilke found eo little variety of opinion as to the
advantages of protection, there has within the last few months
commenced a strong reaction against it, thanks to the
vigorous exposure of the mischief and loss it has occasioned^
made by that eminent American financier, Mr. Wells.
We have but very little space for what a preacher would
call the practical application of these remarks. The colonies,
from the Englishman's point of view, are simply so many
countries whither he may betake himself to make the fortune
which he has failed to make at home. Or, if he take a larger
or less selfish view of them, they are countries on which to
discharge the pauper population of England. To a certain
extent this latter theory is true. Malthus said truly enough
forty-two years ago that 'a comparatively small excess of
labour occasions a deterioration of the condition of the
labourers in the particular district where such excess exists ;
or, supposing the excess to be general, the consequences are
equally general ; and so is the consequent improvement of
the whole body of labourers by the abstraction and removal of
any superabundant portion.' Mr. Mill has recently declared
that ' the exportation of labourers and capital from a place
where the productive power is less to a place where it is
greater, increases by so much the aggregate produce of the
labour and the capital of the world. It adds to the joint wealth
of the old and of the new country what amounts in a short
period to many times the cost of the transport. There needs be
no hesitation in affirming that colonisation in the present state
of the world is the very best afiair of business in which the
capital of an old and wealthy country can possibly engage.'
Both Mill and Malthus have well spoken ; but their dicta
must be accepted with a qualification. Surplus labour can be
best disposed of by taking it to the country where it is wanted ;
but then it must be labour. At the present time we are
falling into the serious mistake of supposing that pauperism
is in itself a qualification for emigration ; in other words, that
failure in the old country is a guarantee of success in the new.
The emigration-aid societies »in the East End of London^
Byeways of English. 21
excellently well-intentioned though they be, are likely to give
rise to much disappointment and sorrow, unless they bear in
mind that it is more difficult for the idle or the incapable
man to live in the colonies than in England, simply because
prices are higher in the first than in the second. The blind,
unreasoning longing to get rid of our paupers through
emigration, will give rise to serious consequences, such as
resulted fifteen years ago from the longing to get rid of our
criminals. When the Home Government disallowed the
Australian ' Convict Prevention Bill,' large sums of money
were subscribed in Victoria for the purpose of paying the
passage of convicted Australian bushrangers and convicts to
England, so that the mother country might have a taste of
the evils she was inflicting upon her daughters. It is to be
hoped that no failure on our part to deal with the great
problem of pauperism will force V ictorians to transmit to us
cargoes of Australian beggars. The selection of English
emigrants must be made with judgment. Mere poverty must
not be considered a qualification. There must be an honest
desire to win a livelihood and a certain amount of capacity to
win it, if emigration is not to be as lamentable a mistake as
transportation. We sincerely rejoice to see an announcement
made while these pages are in course of writing that the
Victorian Government has instructed its agent in this country
to select a large number of suitable emigrants, who are to be
sent to Melbourne as promptly as possible. The selection
being made by a responsible representation of the colonists,
any blunders that may be made cannot be charged upon us.
There is every reason to believe that they will be altogether
prevented.
BYEWAYS OP ENGLISH.
BYEON speaks of 'Words which are things;' they are
at least the instruments and signs of that knowledge
which is power. Our ideas and our wants, our personal and
national history, our morals and manners, our prevalent forms
of thought, and our predominant associations of ideas are
all blended with and intertextured in our words. Words
contain within them many important and valuable lessons^
and to a few of these, gathered in the by-ways of English
speech, we would now direct the attention of our readers.
Words are diaphanous, they show the mental state of the
22 Byeways of English.
?)eaker as well as convey a certain meaning in themselves,
ure speecli is in itself no slight evidence of a pure spirit,
and a slangy style naturally suggests that its employer leads
a slangy life. The use of language is very much influenced
by the activity of the associative faculties, and he who in
ordinary discourse makes much use of the lexicon of ' fast ^
life as expressive of his common sentiments, feelings, and
ongoings, suggests that the associations which rule in his
habitual thoughts and inner life are of a ' fast ' sort, or are,
at least, allowed to range unguardedly in that direction.
Language thus becomes a sort of barometer of individual and
social life, showing the rise and fall of the nature of man
towards good and evil — an outward indicator of that which is
most inward and concealed. Hence, the moral value of an
examination of the lower strata of conversational speech. It
has been truly said that ' some very curious results are
deducible from such a process, and we doubt whether it is
possible to find a department of hterature so new or so pro-
mising as regards the information which it is likely to afford
us, not only on obsolete facts and coiiceptions, but on the
actual world around us, on which, until we know its secret
language, our judgment is at fault, and our speculations are
fallacious.^ Some of these results we hope to point out in
the progress of our paper.
George Chapman, who not only glorified our English
tongue with a version of Homer, but added to the poetry of
EUzabetVs time (and of all time) many beautiful pieces and
several semi-classical dramas, and was moreover ' a person of
most reverend aspect, religious, and temperate, qualities
rarely meeting in a poet,^ saw the evil of using euphemistical
terms. ^ Honesty,^ he says, in The Widow's Tears (I. i.), 'is
stripped out of his true substance into verbal nicety. Com-
mon sinners startle at common terms, and they must, by
whole mountains, swallow down the deeds of darkness; a poor
mite of a familiar word makes them turn up the white o' the
eye.^ ' Language is the amber in which a thousand precious
and subtle thoughts have been safely embedded and pre-
served. It has arrested ten thousand lightning flashes of
genius, which, unless thus fixed and arrested, might have
been as bright, but would also have been as quickly passing
and perishing as the- lightning.' But it is also, it is sad to
state, most truly likenable to a precious stone in which there
are many flaws imbedded, and if it has preserved and immor-
talised ' to a life beyond life ' much that is good and brilliant,
it has also caught up and absorbed much that is tainted with
evil, and so has given to what might otherwise have been
Byeioays of Englieh. 28~
fleeting and evanescent^ a perpetuity of influence whicli snch
evil would not otherwise have had, had it been, even though
thought, unspoken.
There is an art of words by which men represent ' that
which is good in the likeness of evil, and evil in the likeness
of good, and augment or diminish the apparent greatness of
good and evil/ Hence, 'words are wise men^s counters, they
do but reckon by them, but they are the money of fools.'
The former know that their value is only representative, and
requires comparison with the truth of thmgs; the latter
accept them as intrinsically valuable, and as giving in them-
selves the measure of truth. ' The use of words,' says the
philosopher of Malmesbury, ' is to register to ourselves and
make manifest to others the thoughts and conceptions of our
minds ; ' 'for it is evident enough that words have no effect
but on those that understand them, and then they have no
other use but to signify the intentions or passions of them that
speak, and thereby produce hope, fear, or other passions or
conceptions in the hearer.' Hence, ' it is custom that gives
words their force,' registrative force to ourselves and repre-
sentative force to others. To know the customs of men in
regard to their use of language is to have a gauge of their
moral nature, for ' out of the fulness of the heart the mouth
speaketh.' The language of literature is, in general, guarded
and chosen, and is commonly selected for a given purpose;
but the language of ordinary conversation, as it is for the
most part extempore and demands sudden utterance, supplies
a far more correct index of the underlying moral nature of
man than the language of letters. Conversational speech
shows the most usual and readiest associations of our thoughts,
and the turns we give to the topics of talk not unfrequently
reveal the hidden operations of the mind to acute observers.
' The secret thoughts of a man run over all things holy, pro-
fane, clean, obscene, grave, and light,' and these thoughts
must register themselves with more or less accuracy and
frequency in words. The more frequently and readily our
thoughts and our words get associated, the greater the
aptitude of these thoughts to suggest these words, and of
these words to suggest these thoughts interchangeably, and
thus our handiest vocabulary will be that which expresses our
most habitual, though our most anxiously hidden thoughts.
The train of thought in the latencies of mind is unguided and
undesigned or aimless, unless in those who have learned self-
control. In the hours of wayward unguardedness the ideas
most frequently before the mind are those suggested by our
prevailing passions, dispositions, and desires, and the words
24 Byeways of English.
in wliicli thej register themselves, or with which they con-
nect themselves, must become those most readily available
when we wish, or are called upon to speak, and, therefore,
must reveal the inner operations of our mental nature.
Hence, morally, Buffon was not far off the mark when he
said, ' the style is the man/
So deeply inf^ained and so prevalent is the habit of per-
verting language and employing it in other than those honest
and forthright ways in which it ought to be used, that special
names have been appropriated to the different forms it takes,
and in some instances the rhetoricians have incorporated the
proper management of this art of speech in their treatment of
tropes and figures, and have devoted no little care to the
explanation of the means of so employing words as to heighten
their effectiveness according to the purpose the speaker or
writer may have in view. Some of those methods of con-
cealing the precise meaning of the speaker, or of shutting off
the attention of the spirit from the moral considerations
which ought to arise in men^s minds when considering things
and actions, have scarcely attained a place in b'terature, and,
indeed, are sedulously kept out of books, parlour conversa-
tion, and general discourse as vulgar and unseemly. To two
classes of each, of these we intend to devote a little attention,
in order that we may endeavour to derive from the facts and
instances brought under notice some lessons of value regarding
the moral relations of the language of men to the great
questions of social science which are engaging the attention
of the earnest men of this age anxious to promote and en-
courage personal reform and moral improvement.
The two literary forms of speech are named respectively
Euphuism and Euphemism, and the two unliterary forms are
Cant and Slang. On each of these we shall venture to make
a few brief remarks.
Euphuism is a word with a history. Though originally
derived from the Greek Eu<^vi7s, which signifies well-shaped,
docile, or witty, we owe its introduction and use to an author
whose fame has almost fallen out of memory except among
literary antiquarians, and to a work which, first published in
1579, about the middle of Queen Elizabeth's reign, 'passed
through ten editions in fifty-six years, and then was not
reprinted' till October, 1868, when it was issued as one of the
excellent series of 'English Eeprints,' edited by Edward
Arber, in a cheap, handy form. That author was 'the witty,
comical, facetiously- quick, and unparalleled John Lyly,'
Master of Arts of both Universities, and the book was
' Euphues : The Anatomy of Wit ; ' a very clever work npon
Byeways of EngUth, 25
friendship, love, education, and religion. When Thomas
Watson, in 1582, published his 'Passionate Century of
Love,^ it had prefixed to it a letter from 'John Lyly to
the author, his friend/ Blount afiirms that ' our nation
are in his debt for a new English, Vvhich he taught
them. Euphues and his England begun first that language ;
all our ladies were then his scholars, and that beauty in a
court which could not parley Evphuisme, was as little regarded
as she which now there speaks not French/ For a century
and a-half, at least, Euphues was a name to which not one in
twenty thousand could attach a clear idea. All that most
people know about its author and his work is probably de-
rired from Sir Walter Scott's vile travesty of euphuism in
the person of Sir Shafton Percie, whose insipid nonsense
disfigures the ' Monastery ; ' or from stray panegyrics or
denunciations penned, it may be, by those who know only at
second-hand that which they praise or condemn. They may,
perhaps, have further heard that the alliterative and florid •
nonsense in ' Love's Labour Lost ' is designed to ridicule the
alliterative and florid Lyly. But all these facts and much
more put together will not give so clear an idea of euphuism
as the perusal of a few pages of the veritable ' Euphues.'
Lyly was imitated by Greene, Lodge, and Nash. Ben Jon-
son caricatured his style in Fastidious Brisk, one of the
characters in ' Every Man in his Humour.' Webbe, Meres,
and Drayton praised him, and Shakespeare himself owes not a
little of his grace of speech to this stylist of Elizabeth's time.
Lyly and Ascham much improved the English tongue, and
Wilson's Arte of Rhetoricke directed attention to artistic
writing. Lyly was also a dramatist of some popularity,
although in these as well as in his prose writings the afiected
sententiousness, the forced antithesis, and the strained
smartness read strange to modem ears. Our readers may
perhaps like a specimen or two, culled to show that he could
speak wise words ; —
' Canst thou then be so unwise to swallow the bait which will breed thj bane ?
to swill the drink that will expire thy date ? ' P. 77.
' Both not wine, if it be immoderately taken, kill the stomach, inflame the
liver, mischiefe the dronken ?' P. 100.
' Learn from Romnlus to abstaine from wine, be it never so delicate.* P. 110.
*Lycurgu8 set it down for a lawe that where men were commonly dronken theyynes
shoulde bee destroyed.* P. 422.
* Let us not omitte that which our aunceetours were wont precisely to keepe,
that men should either be sober or drinke lyttle wine, that would have sober and
discreet children, for that the fact of the father would be figured in the infant.
Diogenes, therefore, seeing a young man either overcome with drinke or bereaved of
bis wittes, cryed with a loude voice. Youth, youth, thoa hadst a dronken father.*
P. 126.
' If the father counsaile the eonne to refrayne wine as most anwholeeome, and
26 Byeways of Englith.
drinke himselfe immoderately, doth hee not as well reproTe his owne foUj a*
rebuke his sonnes ? * P. 151. ' When the father exhorteth the sonne to sobnetia^
the flatterer proroketh him to wine ; when the father wameth them to continence,
the flatterer allureth him to last ; when the father admonisheth them to thrifte*
the flatterer haleth them to prodigaljtie ; when the father incoura^th them to
laboar, the flatterer lajeih a cushion under his elbowe, to sleepe, biddine him to
eate, drinko, and to be merrj, for that the Ijfe of man is soon gone, and bat as a
short sbaddowe, and seeing that we hare but a while to Ijye, who would Ijwe like
a servaunt ? They saj that now their fathers be olde and doate through a^ like
Satumius.' P. 149. * For yoa well know, that wine to a young blood, is in the
spring time flax to flre, and at all times either unwholesome or superfluous and so
dangerous that more perish by a surfeit than the sword. I haye hearde wise
clearkes say, that Ghilen being asked what dyet he used that he lyyed so lons^
answered : I haye dronke no wine, 1 haye touched no woman, I haye kept myselie
warme/ P. 275. ' If thou desire to be olde, beware of too much wine.' • Xong
quaffing maketh a short lyfe.' P. 229. * Let not eyery inne and alehouse in
Athens be as it were your clmmber, frequent not those ordinary tables where
either for the desire of delicate eatcs or the meetinge of youthefull companions
yee both spend your money yainely and your time idly, imitate him inlyfe whome
ye seemo to honour for his learning — Aristotle — who was neyer seen in the com-
pany of those that idly bestowed their time.' P. 152.
Euphemism means, literally, speaking well, having good
sense enough to employ words of fair omen, and to avoid
unlucky expressions; but in a literary sense it signifies away
of describing an offensive thing by an inoffensive expression.
Euphemism is a delicate way of saying what might otherwise
offend, and is employed to conceal the precise meaning when
anything disagreeable requires to be spoken of: e.g., a fece
bloated by intemperance is thus delicately hinted at by Aken-
side : —
' 1 see Anacreon laugh and sing ;
His silyer tresses breathe perfume ;
His cheeks display a second spring
Of roses taught by wine to bloom.*
That was a very good instance of euphemism which an
abstinent athlete gave utteirance to on accepting a silver
cup as a reward for his being swift of foot : — ^ Gentlemen, I
have won this cup by the use of my legs ; I trust I may never
lose the use of my legs by the use of this cup/ ' To go out
for a day's enjoyment ' is often a euphemism for ' going on
the spree,' or (to speak plainly) to go to get drunk. ' Festive
season,' ' Saint Monday,' ^merrymaking,' &c., are often mere
euphemisms for ^ occasions for drinking.'
Slang is that evanescent vulgar language, ever changing
with fashion and taste, which has principally come into vogue
during the last seventy or eighty years, spoken by persons
in every grade of life, rich and poor, honest and dishonest.
It includes 'those burlesque phrases, quaint allusions, and
nicknames for persons, things, and places, which from long
uninterrupted usage are made classical by prescription.' It
is indulged in from a desire to appear familiar with life, gaietyj
Byeways of EngUsK 27
town hnmoiir, and with the transient nicknames and street
jokes of the day. ' Slang' is defined by the compiler of
Hotten's Dictionary of Modern Slang, Cant, and Vulgar
Words, as being ^ the language of street humour, of fast, high,
and low life/ ^In its usu^ signification,' says a writer in
Chamber^ Encyclopaedia, 'ifc denotes a burlesque style of
conversational language, originally found only among the
vulgar, but now more or less in use in this country among
persons in a variety of walks in life/ * Slang consists in part
of new words, and in part of words of the legitimate language
invested with new meanings/ ' Their derivations are often
indirect, arising out of fanciful allusions and metaphors,
which soon pass out of the public mind, the word remaining,
while its origin is forgotten/ This is a field in which men of
every age, religion, country, class, and capacity have exercised
their inventiveness, where their caprices have had full swing,
and in which the results are numerous. The greater part of
those terms in which men speak of intoxication constitute
slang, as when we designate those who are drunk as ^muzzy/
'queer,' 'tight,' 'elevated,' 'heated in imagination,' or, aa
' not having taken stock of their available condition/ They
are said to be 'edged,' 'fringed,' 'over the border,' 'over-
laden,' 'encumbered,' 'embarrassed,' 'to have aU the steam
on,' 'to have oiled the engine,' and 'all the machinery a-going,'
to be 'oflF the square,' and 'caught in a shower,' to have 'lost
the ticket,' and to be ' off the cue.' So far has this gone
that it has been affirmed that to express the idea of drunken-
ness, metaphor has been nearly exhausted. There are already
more than two hundred slang terms for intoxication. The
latest of these occurs in a recent New Orleans paper. A
reporter, speaking of the arrest of a woman who was ' raising
a row' in the streets, says that 'she was deeply Agitated
with benzine/ Another new colloquialism for 'taking an
insidiator' is said to be due to the Tammany Convention,
namely, 'retiring for consultation.' Since the volunteer
movement commenced, men do not get 'submerged,' or
' engrossed,' or ' write on the margin ' so frequently ; they
' file off,' ' go to head quarters,' and ' forsake the enfilade '/
a drinker soon begins to ' carry an ensign ' when he has been
engaged for a little in ' shooting right a-head.' Engineering,
from its connection with drainage, has lately got into vogue in
some circles, and some of those who are fond of porter fresh
from the mug profess themselves pewterers. Plumbers
and glass-blowers, doctors and cobblers, councillors and
bottleholders, are other words commonly employed in semi-
jocular talk for drinkers of different sorts ; while 'to apprehend
28 Byeways of English,
Jack ' — ^in allusion to the nursery rhyme — is sometimes used
for to take a gill.
The term cant, though frequently employed as a synonym
for slang, has in reality a special signification of its own. In
Wedgewood's ' Dictionary of English Etymology/ it is stated
that ^ cant is properly the language spoken by thieves and
beggars among themselves when they do not wish to be
understood by bystanders. It therefore cannot be derived
from the sing-song or whining tone in which they demand
alms. The real origin is the Graelic cainnt speech, language
applied in the first instance to the special talk of rogues and
beggars, and subsequently to the peculiar terms used by any
any other profession or community. The Gaelic can, means
to sing, say, name, call.^
In cant phrase bouse is to drink, rigr is a ^ spree,* and to
go askew is to get into one's cups ; to throw the gauge is to
empty a quart pot ; nase is to be intoxicated ; prygges* are
drunken tinklers or people beastly through liquor. Rum-bouse
is wine, and a rum cove is a ^ jolly good fellow / stowlinge-kena
are tippling-houses ; and beargered signifies drunk as a lubber.
After we have heard ^ some narrow-brained fellow trolling
a ballad in the corner of a pot-house,* we are seldom surprised
at the coarseness of the language employed in the conversa-
tion that ensues. Pot-house talk is usually a very diflferent
kind of speech from drawing-room, or even parlour English.
* The Spartans when thej strove t' express the loathesomeoeBS
Of drunkenness to their children brought a slave,
Some captive Helot, overcharged with wine,
Heeling in thus: — his eyes shot out with staring;
A fire in his nose ; a burning redness
Blazing in either cheek ; his hair uprieht ;
His tongue and senses faltering ; and his stomach
Overburdened, ready to discharge her load
In each man's face he met. This made them see
And hate that hin of swine and not of men/
But we are not thus at liberty to bring forward in all its
hideousness, the uncleanness, the filthiness and obscenity
which the gin-palace roisterer, the beershop haunter, the pot-
house frequenter, the tavern parasite, and the hero of the
boosing-ken use as speech.
If, however, leaving the prurient, the blasphemous, the
profane, and the absolutely blackguardly out of our reckoning.
*A 'prig* in the nineteenth century is a pickpocket or thief, and in fact,
in our higher circles, where they speak slang, not cant, he has grown to be some-
thing else, and may be sometimes recognised in a starched neckcloth, with a
pretentious, vain, and supercilious bearing, bringing us round nearly to the
association of ideas whence the term divergeNoL
Byeways of English. 29
we show that a very large surplusage of language exists
which is scarcely admissible into a dictionary, in so far as
regards the use that is made of it, we shall be warranted to
infer that there is a very considerable amount of human
thought given to ideas unsuitable for company-hours and
home-speech. The amount of this almost subconscious
immorality can scarcely be believed in until we have brought
the evidence up to the surface by an examination of some at
least of tho phraseology of common life. Words are the
shadows of ideas, and shadows take their existence from
realities, so that if we have words, and many of them too, that
are utterly unfit for mention in any literary form, they must
show that there is a large amount of extraordinarily loathsome
vice in the imaginations of the thoughts of the sinful heart ;
while if we show that between this horrid sin-suggesting
speech and the authorised language of literature there is to
be found a large vocabulary of terms which are sin-coloured
or vice-glozing, we shall prove that we have much need to
consider our words, as well as our ways, and be wise.
' Dictionaries, while they tell us maob, jst will not tell oi all. How shamefiillj
rich is the language of the vulgar in all lands in words which are not allowed to
find place in hooks, yet which live as a sinful oral tradition on the lips of men, to
set forth that which is unholy and impure. And of tliese words, as no less of
those which have to do with the kindred sins of reyelling and excess, how many
set eril forth with an evident sympathy and approbation, as taking part with the
sin against Him who has forbidden it under pain of His extremest displeasure.
How much wit, how much talent, yea, how much imagination must hare stood in
the service of an evil world before it could have had a nomenclature so rich, so
varied, and often so heaven-defining as it has.' *
As the authoress of Adam Bede quaintly observes, 'Our moral
sense learns the manners of good society, and smiles when
others smile, but when some rough person gives rough names
to our actions she is apt to take part against us/ This shows
the power of words over us, and it makes it an important
question in Social Science how far the present prevalence of
* fast ' language and slang and cant suggests or indicates the
progress of a moral decline in our home-life atid its innocence.
' If/ says Locke, ' we knew the original of all the words we
meet with, we should thereby be very much helped to know
the ideas they were first applied to and made to stand for/
This would be a clear intellectual gain. But a moral gain is
also possible ; for if we look on our words as the shadowy
reproductions of our thoughts, then from the multiplicity of
the words used by us expressive of evil, we may in some
measure gauge the wickedness of our hearts ; and from the
* Archbishop Trench < On the Study of Woida.'
so Byeways of Engliih.
proneness in us to use euphemistic^ round-about^ and sugges-
tive instead of forth-right phrases^ we may learn the fact of
how exceedingly cowardly we are in our sinfulness.
* Hypocrisy is the homage vice pays to virtue,^ and euphemism
is the acknowledgment the soul makes of the need for
holiness^ because we would not use a cloak for our thoughts
if we believed they could stand the light of that true ex-
pression which,
* Like the unchanging sun
Clears and improyes whatever it wines upon.'
Words, as the signs of thoughts, are not without their
lessons. ' It is,' for instance, as Archbishop Trench has said,
^a melancholy thing to observe how much richer is every
vocabulary in words that set forth sins, than in those that set
forth graces/ When St. Paul (Gal. v., 19-23) would put
these against those, 'the works of the flesh' against 'the
fruits of the Spirit,' those are seventeen, these only nine;
and where do we find in Scripture such lists of graces as we
do — 2 Tim. iii., 2; Bom. i., 29-31, of their opposites f Of
this singular, and yet easily accounted-for fact, the following
illustrations may be given, as supplying a few curious matters
on what may be called the statistics of language. They are
chiefly selected from the admirable 'Thesaurus of English
Words and Phrases,' which Dr. Boget has added to our
series of lexicons of synonyms. For positive synonyms of
the word sainty fourteen terms are given, while its antonym,
sinner, has a suite of sixty-eight; temperance has twenty-
seven, and intempera/nce sixty-seven ; chastity supplies nineteen
synonyms, but has as antonyms one hundred and forty-eight
words and phrases ; sobriety has nine paronyms, and stands
opposed by ninety-five terms. Of woras incficative of respect
and approbation, we have a choice of one hundred and forty-
four expressions, but for contempt and disapproval we can lay
hold of three hundred and eighty-ei^ht easily, and yet leave
references to a large margin of equaSy bitter words of taunt
and scorn, dislike and reproachfulness. Under the heading
bejievolence, we have an assortment of eighty-eight words ana
phrases, while under the opposite term malevolence, we have
ready at hand two hundred and twenty-nine.
Bemarkable as these facts are, they are not free from the
usual fallacy of statistics. They do, indeed, inform us of the
proportions which the terms denoting evil hold with regard to
those which refer to well-doing, but they do not, and they can
not, supply us with any criterion of the comparative frequency
with which the respective sets of terms are employed.
Byeways of English. 31
Still, when we reflect that a very large proportion of the
language of men is professedly and professionally employed,
whether spoken or written, for the betterment of the race, and
therefore requires vaKety and copiousness for literary and
artistic grace, and yet that the vocabulary of evil so far
exceeds the vocabulary of good, we cannot' help fearing that
the ratio of frequency of use is even higher than that of
researchful interest and inventive ingenuity. What a glimpse
into the inner workings of the heart do these facts afford !
Do they not show that there is in its ongoings a more frequent
need, or at least use, of the language of suffering and of sin,
than there is of that of loving-kindness and delight t
Language thus bears witness in itself of man's liability to
misery, and of the depravity of the human heart whence
speech has its issue and spring.
* Another waj in which the immorality of words mainly displays itself, one,
too, in which they work their greatest mischief^ is that of giving honourable names
to dishonourable things, making sin plausible, by dressing it out sometimes in the
colours of goodness, or, if not so, yet in such as go far to conceal its own native
deformity. ** The tongue," as St. James has declared, **is a world of iniquity"
(iii., 6) ; or, as some interpreters affirm the words ought rather to be translated,
and then they would be still more to our purpose, the omamerU of iniquity, that
iRrhich sets it out in fair and attractive colours ; and those who understand the
•original will at once perceive that such a meaning may possibly lie in the words.
On the whole, I do not believe that these expositors are rights yet certainly the
'Connection of the Greek word for tongue with our **glore,** "glossy," with the German
piemen, to smooth over, or polish, with an obsolete Greek word also, which in like
manner signifies " to polish,' is not accidental, but real, and mav well suggest some
searching thoughts as to the use whereunto we turn this " beUf but as it may also
prove " worst** member that we have.
' How much wholesomer on all aoooonts is it, that there should be an ugly word
for an ugly thing, one involving moral condemnation and disgust, even at the
expense of a little coarseness, rather than one which plays fast and loose with the
eternal principles of morality, which shifts the divinely reared landmarks of right
and wrong, thus bringing the user under the woe of them ** that call evil good and
good evil, that put darkness for light and light for darkness, that put sweet for
bitter and bitter for sweet " (iRaiim v., 20)--a text on which South has written
four of his greatest sermons with reference to this very matter, and bearing the
striking title, " On the fatal imposture and force of words." How awful, yea, how
fearful, is this force and imposture of theirs, leading men captive at will. There
is an atmosphere about them which they are evermore diffusing, an atmosphere ol
life or death, which we insensibly inhale at each moral breath we draw. ** The
winds of the soul," as one called them of old, they fill its sails, and are continuaUy
urging it upon its course heavenward or to hell. How immense is the difference
as to the light in which we learn to regard a sin, according as we have been
accustomed to hear it designated by a word which brings out its loathsomeness and
deformity ; or by one which conceals these * — which seeks to turn the edge of the
divine threatenings against it by a jest t-— or worse than all to throw a flimsy veil
of sentiment over it. Thus, what a source of mischief in all our country parishes
is the one practice of calling a child bom out of wedlock a ** love^hild," instead of
* As in Italy, durinff the time that poiaonini^ was rifest, Dobodv wasiaid to be poisoned ; it
was only that the death of some was assisted {qiuttta). This is the ever>reoarring phrase
in the historians of the time.
t As, when in France, a subtle poison, by which imjDatient heirs sought to get rid of those
^who stood between them and the Inheritanoe which tney coveted, was called {pondrt de sut-
cession) heritage powder.
32 Byeways of English.
a bastard. It would be very hard to estimate how roach it haa lowered the tone «id
standard of morality in them ; or for how many young women it may have helped
to make the downward way more sloping still. How yigorously ought we to
oppose ourselves to all such immoralities of language ; which opposition will yet
never be easjr or pleasant, for many that will endure to commit a sin will reseat
having that sin called by its right name.
' Coarse as, according to our present usages of language, may be esteemed the
word by which our plain-speaking Anglo-Saxon fathers were wont to designate tha
unhappy women who make a trade of the lusts of men, yet is there a profound
moral sense in that word, bringing prominently out as it does the true Tileness of
their occupation, who for hire are content to profane and lay waste the deepest
sanctities of their life. Consider the truth whiph is witnessed for here as compared
with the falsehood of many other titles by which they have been known — ^namat
which may themselves be <»lled " whited sepulchres,'' so fair are they without^ yet
hiding so much foulness within ; as, for instance, that in the French Umguage
(fille dejoie), which ascribes joy to a life which more surely than any other driet
up all the sources of ioy in we heart, brings anguish, aatoniahment^ Uaokart
melancholy on all who have addicted themselves to it.
* In the* same way how much more moral words are the English '* sharper** and
** blackleg," than theFrench *' Chevalier cPindustrie ; ** and, coarse aa it is, the sama
holds gCHod of the English equivalent for the Latin " ooneiUatrix** procureea ar
bawd. In this last word we have a notable example of the putting of bitter for
sweet, of the attempt to present a disgraceful occupation in an amiablf, idmost a
sentimental side, rather than in its own true deformity and ugliness.' *
The same evil tendency of euphemism maj be noted in the
nse of other phrases^ as^ for instance^ in the common term for
illegitimate offspring as nakiral, a term which impliedly sets
nature and legal usage in opposition^ and covertly confers the
preference on the natural over the legal. Such chUdren are not
natural children in the right and proper use of the word. It is
not natural for a mother to bring a babe into the world with-
out due care for its welfare and up-bringing ; it is not natural
for a father to leave an unshared responsibility upon a mother
and brand with bastardy the issue of his selfishness. The
indulgence of mere carnality without prevision of and provision
for its consequences is not natural in man^ but is inhuman-
inhuman in the mother who has sought or given a moment's
indulgence to passion at the cost of an uncared-for life for her
babe^ inhuman in the father who has ungratefully requited
the confidence reposed in him, thrown his burden on his
helpless partner in guilt, and acted worse than an ostrich to
his offspring, showing himself to be a heartless monster^ an
unnatural parent. Law exists for the common protection of
mother, father, child, and society. It is natural that all
should concur in conferring all due advantage and sscurity on
each, and hence we affirm that a vile sophism underlies the use
of natural as synonymous with illegitimate, as having a baser
idea at its root than that of love-child used for bastard. It is
a spurious term, chargeable with a flagrant suggestio falsi.
Similarly the use of ' misfortune ' for the result of criminal
# Archbishop Trench * On the Study of Words,' Lect. II., pp. 45-49.
Byeways of English. 88
intercourse, 'fall' for sin, 'unfortunate' for vicious,
'paramour' (one held by love) for kept-miss, ' chere amie^ for
strumpet, and many other similar terms, shows how anxious
the soul is to gloze over matters of this sort and to hide from
itself the hideousness of its criminality by the employment of
euphemistic words that suggest but do not express dis-
reputable ideas. There is a force of moral reproof in the
terms hussey, drab, trollop, trull, harlot, demirep, mopsy,
prostitute, &c., which are not to be found in the milder
euphemisms of Lady Anonyma, a city madam, a lady of
doubtful ethics, a member of the frail sisterhood, a woman of
easy virtue, a person devoted to the public service, a Hay-
r^arket friend. Dame aux Camelias, woman of pleasure, &c.,
which are employed to slur the moral and suggest the base.
< How many words men hare dragged downward with themeelTes, and made par-
takers more or lees of their own fall ! Haying originally an honourable significance,
Ihej have yet, with the deterioration and degeneration of those that used them,
•deteriorated and degenerated too. What a multitude of words, originally harmless,
have assumed a harmful as their secondary meaning ; how many worthy hare
acquired an unworthy. Thus, " knaTe " meant once no more than lad, *' Tillain **
than peasant ; a " boor " was only a farmer, a " churl " but a strong fellow. *'Time-
eenrer " was used two hundred years ago quite as often for one in an honourable as
in a dishonourable sense " serving the time." There was a time when " conceits "
had nothing conceited in them ; '* officious " had reference to offices of kindness,
not of busy meddling ; " moody " was that which pertained to a man's mood,
without any gloom or sullenness implied. ** Demure " (which is des nuxurs^ of good
manners) conyeyed no hint, as it does now, of an oyer-doing of the outward
demonstration of modesty; in "craftyi" and "cunning" there was nothing of
crooked wisdom implied, but only knowledge and skill; *< craft," indeed, still
retains yery often its more honourable use, a man's "craft" being his skill, and then
the trade in which he is well skilled. And think you that Magdalen could haye
eyer giyen us "maudlin" in its present contemptuous application, if the tears of
penitential weeping had been held in due honour in the world?'
Intoxicants have added immensely to our common vocabu-
lary, and have enriched — ^if we cannot say adorned — our
lexicon with many expressive terms. In this case, truly, the
causes rerum (causes of things) and the caivsce vocum (causes
of words) are so closely intertwined that but for the existence
of the intoxicants the names of their effects would have
remained unrequired, and the rich variety of phrases employed
in regard to ^the fatal charms, the many woes of wine,'
would have been unknown in our English tongue — a tongue
which so long as the lexicon of intoxication is incorporated with
it can scarcely be called ' the well of English undefiled,' for it
must be confessed by all that places of public traffic in strong
drink are not the places to go to, to hear ' neither filthiness,
nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient.'
And now we proceed to our illustration of the degradation
of words as the evidence of the degradation of the hearts of
those who use them^ As cast clothes are passed on to
Vol. 12.— No. 45. c
34 Bifcivajs of Emjllsh.
inferiors, as discarded manners descend from the elite to
the plebeian ranks, and the fashions of the upper ten
proceed by dcjL^radation througli all other classes, so does
the langnage of the witty become the inheritance of the
witless, and that which was a euphemism in its earliest
utterance becomes the slang of the imitative mob and the
cant of a succeeding generation. The elements of the
one are continually passing into the grade below, shifting
by natural deterioration, and becoming the worse for the
wear until, having reached the lowest depths of conversational
slang, they find a lower still in the cant of vagabonds and the
argot of rascals. As an example, we may quote the phrase of
'the real Simon Pure.^ In 1718, Mrs. Centlivre produced her
play, ' A Bold Stroke for a Wife.* In this famous comedy.
Colonel Feignwell, in order to obtain the hand of Mistress
Anno Lovely, adopts the name of a Bristol Quaker, who has
been recommended by Aminadab Holdfast to Obadiah Prim
as a fitting husband for the lovely young lady. The colonel
reaches the scene of action first, and commences operations at
once, but is soon commended by discretion to beat a retreat,
as the veritable and authorised suitor is advancing. The
colonel concocts a letter, in which the genuine Bristolian is
represented to be a disguised housebreoJcer, who, with the
design of robbing Obadiah Prim, and, if need be, of cutting
his throat, has resolved on passing himself off as ' the red
Simon Pure.* The scene in which the real and the counterfeit
Simon Pure confront each other made a deep impression on
the public, so that ' the real Siuion Pure' became the slang
phrase of that day for anything genuine and trustworthy. It
has now become the cant for undiluted intoxicating drink.
As another instance of the same fact, we may note that
Roger North, author of the ^ Examen ; or, an Inquiry into the
Credit and Veracity of a Pretended Complete EUstory
(Kennet's), ITiO,' tells us that in the Green Rihion Club,
London, in the time of Chvirles II., the Latin phrase, mobile
vvhpis, ' lickle crowd,' was facetiously abridged to mob. Swift,
in his ' Art of Polite Conversation,' tells us it had become
slang, and it took so amazingly, that Addison .thought it
would probably become a fixed possession in our langruage.
So it has ; but it has also passed into the region of cant, and
now two or more ' patterers,' or a few thieves who arrange 'to
work a crowd,' that is, either to impose on it by false news-
sheets, &c., or to touch and empty the pockets of the lieges as
a joint speculation, are said to engage in a ' mob.' A low
gambling party, or a set of thimbleriggers, get the same
name probably from their mobility of person or of fingers.
Byeways of English. 35
A Captain Fudge is said by the elder Disraeli to have been
much given to exaggeration and mendacity. His crew taking
freedom with English undefiled, instead of using the ordinary
word 'lie/ said, ' jon fudge it/ Goldsmith, in his 'Vicar of
Wakefield/ made the word classical, but it has now become
the cant term for the liquor got under false pretences in a
shebeen, and, more lately still, for that methylated spirit, or
French polish, which some determined drunkards procure
under the plea of having a ' finish/ It may not be amiss to
give here one or two illustrations of the curiosities of drink-
speech, and to cull from the vocabulary of the liquor traflSc a
few noticeable words : —
Not long ago there died in New York 'a character'
known by the soubriquet of 'the Whiskey Punch King/
He had been apprenticed to a publican and grocer in Dundee,
and on the termination of his engagement he started business,
in company with his brother, in the same line of enterprise.
Success did not smile upon the efibrts of the brother-partners
and about the time when George IV. made his exit to give
place to his successor William IV., the two brothers sold off
their whole stock and emigrated to New York. This time
they determined to confine themselves to the sale of hquors,
as more likely to ensure success than such a combination of
heterogeneities as groceries implied. They resolved to keep
in their store the quality of article which held the best
character in their traffic, and to do only a wholesale and family
trade. Little reward did their efforts earn, and in an evil
moment of despondency the younger brother committed
suicide. The elder survivor seemed as dull as if he too were
contemplating a similar death, ¥fhen some condoling friends
visited nim. He, thankful for their civility, invited them to
partake of a ' cheering glass,' and they consented. Well up
to the method of making punch of the sort for which Dundee
had a notoriety in his youth, he brewed the charmed distilla-
tion and gave a pleasing sensation to their appetite. Om the
morrow they returned craving a repetition of the entrancing
brewst, and offered payment, but the host refused to take the
money until strongly pressed. After the right of pay had
been established, the members of the fraternity paid frequent
visits to the punch store and brought others with them.
Business so increased with the Whiskey Punch King that he
had, before long, six men engaged in dealingout the draught
to those who liked potations of that sort. The store in New
York where this branch of business began and grew, rapidly
increased the wealth of the proprietor, who however could
never bring himself to act as mixer for the general public.
86 Byeways of English.
though he inaugurated the trade and realised from it a fortune
of half a million dollars. His store was called 'Cobweb Hall/
and from the peculiar influence produced by the liquor is
derived the New York slang for drunk — cobwebby. The
perhaps unconscious but singularly correct connotation of
this drink-word may fairly bo enhanced if we remember
the origin of the word : — The ' adder ' creeps beneath the
grass, and was also called ^naedri/ that is, beneath. In
allusion probably to this reptile, poison was called atter. The
venomous spider was called attercop, a name which is still in
use in some parts, and from cop we have cobweb, formerly
copweb.* The name gathers interest by recalling the well-
known fact regarding strong drink, that ' at the last it biteth
like a serpent and stingeth like an adder,* as well as the fate
of those who become captivated by it so as to earn the name
of drunkard, ' whose hope shall be cut off, and whose trust
shall be a spider^ s web.*
' We have a yerj common expression to dasoribe a man in a atate of ebriety, that
"he is as drunk as a beast/' or that " be is beastly drunk/' This is a libel on
the brutes, for the yice of cbriety is perfectly human. I think the phrase is peculiar
to ourselves, and I imagine I have discovered its origin. When ebrietj became
first prevalent in our nation, during the reign of Elizabeth, it was a favourite
notion among the writers of the time, and on which they have exhausted their
fancy, that a man in the different stages of ebriety shewed the most vicious quality
of different animals ; or that a company of drimkarda exhibited a collection of
brutes with their different characteristics.
* " All drunkards arc beasts," says George Gkiscoigne, in a curious treatise on
them, entitled, "A delicate diet for daintie-mouthde droonkardes, wherein the
fowle abuse of common carowsing and quaffing with hartie draughtee is honeatlio
admonished/* By George Gascoigne, Esquier, 1576; and he proceeds in illus-
trating his proposition ; but the satirist Nash has classified eight kinds of
" drunkards," in a fanciful sketch from the hand of a master in humour, one which
could only have been composed by a close spectator of their manners and habits.
* The first is ape-drunJct and he leaps and sings, and hollows and danoeth for the
heavens. The second is lyon-drunk^ and he flings the pots about the house, calls the
hostess w — , breaks the glass windows with his dageer, and is apt to quarrel with any
man that speaks to him. The tliird is svoini'drunk, heavy, lumpish, and sleepy, and
cries for a little more drink, and a few more clothes. The fourth is sheep-inink,
wise in his own conceit, when he cannot bring forth a right word. The fifth is
maudien-drunJc, when a fellow w^ill weep for kindness in Uie midst of his drink,
and kiss you, saying, *' By ! captain, I love thee ; go thy way, thou dost not
think BO often of me as I do of thee : I would I could not love thee so well as I
do ; " and then he puts his finger in his eye and cries. The sixth is marttn-drunk,
when a man is drunk, and drinks himself sober ere he stir. The seventh is ffoat'
drunk, when, in his drunkenness, he hath no mind but on lechery. The eighth is
fox'drunki when he is crafty-drunk, as many of the Dutchmen be, whidi will
never bargain but when they are drunk. All tnese species, and more, I have seen
practised in one company at one sitting, when 1 have been permitted to remain
sober amongst them only to note their several humours. These beast drunkards
are characterized in a frontispiece to a curious tract on drunkenness, where the
men are represented with heads of apes, swine, &c., &c.' t
* D ai Hoare'8 ' Boglish Boots/ Leot. I., p. 68.
t Isaa ; Ditrae'.i's ^Curiosiiies of Literature.* Drinking Coftoms in England, p. SST.
Bycways of English. 9T
* Half-seas over^ or nearly drunk/ Disraeli continues, * is likely to baye been a
proverbial phrase from the Butch, applied to that state of ebrietj bj an idea-
familiar with those water-rats. Thus, op-zee^ Dutch, means literally over-sea. Mr.
Gifibrd has recently told us in his " Jonson,*' that it was a name given to a stupe-
fying beer introduced into England from the Low Countries. Hence, op-gee,
or over-sea, and freezen, in G^rmanvt signifies to swallow greedily : from this vile-
alliance they compounded a harsh term, often used in our old plays. Thus^
Jonson : —
" I do not like the dulness of your eye,
It hath a heavy cast, 'tis upsee Dutch" Alchemist, a. 4, s. 2.
And Fletcher has " upsee-freeze** which Dr. Nott explains in his edition of Decker's
"Gull's Hornbook,'* as "a tipsy draught, or swallowing liquor till drunk."
Mr. Giiford says it was the name of Eriesland beer ; the meaning, however, was
" to drink swinishly like a Dutchman." '
Sir Walter Scott, in his 'Peveril of the Peak/ makes
Gunlesse speak of 'a Netherland his weasand, which
expanded only on these natural and mortal objects of aversion-
Dutch cheese, rye bread, pickled herring, onions, and Geneva/
In ordinary slang, too, an entertainment in which the host
becomes intoxicated at an earlier time than the guests^ is
called a ^ Dutch feast/
The mention of Gascoigne's book in the preceding extract
reminds us of one of the most curious titles we have seen for
quaintness and humour in connection with our subject,—
' Drink, and Welcome ! or the famous History of the most
part of Drinks in use now in the Kingdom of Great Britain
and Ireland; with an especial declaration of the potency,
virtue, and operation of our English Ale ; with a description
of all sorts of Waters, from the Ocean Sea to the Tears of a
Woman. As also the causes of all sorts of Weather, faire or
foul, sleete, raine, haile, frost, snow, fogges, mists, vapours,
clouds, storms, windes, thunder, and lightning. Compiled first
in the high Dutch tongue by the paineful and industrious
Huldricke Van Speagle, a grammatical Brewer of Lubeck,
and now most learnedly enlarged, amplified, and translated
into English prose and verse by John Taylor. (1637.y This
is John Taylor, ' the King^s majesty^s water-poet,' who kept
a public-house in Phconix Alley, Lougacre. Any book
collector of temperance literature might find it useful to be
told that in 1698 Ned Ward published a poem, entitled, 'The
Sot's Paradise, or the Humours of a Derby Alehouse ; with a
Satire upon Ale.' Even in the days of Camden, Derby had a
reputation for the ' ale brewed in it,' and Smug, in ' The
Merry Devil of Edmonton,' says, ' Your ale is as a Philistine
fox ; Nouns ! there's fire i' the tail on't.'
In connection with ale-drinking, the following passage from
33 Byevrays of EriglUh.
Sir Samuel Tokens 'Adventares cf Fire Hours' may bear
qaotation : —
SUtU, TeU oi vfaat kiad of cjunifi i* iLif HoUiad,
Tbat'* io mueb lAikod o^ ar^i » mnnb iboElii far.
EnutUf- WfaT, fnead. '*U a b:^ ih3p ■! tr^rbor
WitL a fort of cnsi'Urei m»^ &p cf isirf
And botscr.
Pedro, Vrzj. «ir, viat do tlxr diink is t2»s ccozstzt ?
^it MJd tijfere'i neatber foastains ihnv aor rino.
Enutt^, rriertd, i«7 drink tbfre a son of xnaddj Hqnor
Mad« *A tbxt grain vhh vfaidi Toa if^jxmr mnlea.
Pip^* WJuit ! baricT ? can that juioe qacoc^ tSfecir tlurst?
KnuMa. iVj'd warwr beliere h eoald, did too but see
Il-y w oft they dnnk.
Vedn. But metxiialu that ihould make them drunk, euncnde !
fjrfUi^, fridaed, naoft ftran^er* are of that opinioo ;
B-it liiej tL«3i«elref beliere it not, bseanae —
TitKs are k> ofura.
Oiiraldo, A r^tioa« r;re. of walking timj ! the vorld
Haj» ooi the like !
KtMMf/f, i'iirioa m/i. frjiZi^ ; there is bol a great dlich
fkCv4«t« them and soch another nation :
If iinn^ go^xi fellows would but join and drink
TitMt drj, i' laith, thej might shake hands. L« iL
Thh r^iUiThn^'ji hdTfi made to Dntch drinking may remind as
i)mi TUomsiH Xa.»b^ town-wit, and himself experimentaUy
M'^km%t: U'A witli the qualities of aU the drinks of lus day, says^
iu uiH Pi^^ce J^tmniUfisn, his Supplication to the Devil, 1596 : —
* H*ititrrf\uiiy In drink i* a tdn that erer since we hare mixed ourselTes with tiie
I//W (,tt*in^ntm in ry/unte^J honourable; but before we knew their lingering wars was
>M(l/i lit t\tMi \ti0ttyiiX 'l«^ree of hatred that might be. Then, if we had seen a man
H^t *itUowntfg iu tt^ie hirt: tMf or Iain sleeping onder the board* we should haie ipit
at Uitii, lutfi wuitud ail our friends oat of his oompanT.'
ile a:i«<irts the same Flemish favour for liquor in his
' Humner'B Last Will and Testament/ in these words >—
' Drunkenness of bis good behariour
Hath testimonial from where he was bom : —
That pleasant work Ik Arte Bibendi
A drunken Dutchman spewed out a few jean ^noe.'
Camden, the historian, aflBrms that ' the English in their
long wars in the Netherlands first learned to drown themselves
with immoderate drinking, and by drinking others' healths
impair their own. Of all the Northern nations they had been
bwore the most commended for their sobriety / but, he adds,
' th/j vice had so diffused itself over the nation that in our
Aay^ it wa8 first restrained by severe laws / and it is a fact
that many statutes against drunkenness were passed in the
Tdi^pi of James I. Referring to this topic, the elder Disraeli
remarkii ; —
Byeways of EngUsh. 89
* Of this folly of ours, which was, however, a borrowed one, and which lasted
for two centuries, the history is curioas: the variety of its modes and customs; it§
freaks and extravagancies; the technical language introdaced to raise it into an
Art ; and the inventions contrived to animate the progress of the thirsty souls of
its votaries.*
Of these curiosities in literature about drunkenness he
instances Nash^s enumeration, ' Now he is nobody that cannot
drink supernaculum j carouse the hunter^ s hoope, quaff upzee
frieze crosse ; with healths, gloves, mumps, frolickes, and
a thousand other domineering inventions/ The term skinJcer
meaning, he says, a filler of wine, butler, or cupbearer ; and in
taverns a drawer j as appears in our dramatic poets, is Dutch^
or, according to Dr. Notts, purely Danish, from skenher,
'The Saxons, like most of the northern natives, were hard drinkers, and it is a
subject of regret that their descendants, at the present day, have not altogether lost
this not very creditable character. They were not less remarkable for their
hospitality than for their love of strong drink, and did not like to see their guests,
^ny more than themselves, leave a drop in the bottom of their capacious tatuards.
Hence they called it a " carouse '* when they drank all out, the word ^ar signifyine
*' all," and ous meaning " out ; " hence the ff being changed to c, to '* carouse
(anciently garouse), was te drink all out.*
* The word "wassail," defined by Br. Johnson as a drunken bout, comes from the
old Saxon words was and heal, that is '*be of good health;" was being the im-
perative of the Saxon verb signifying to be, of which we still have the imperfect
tense, and heal signifying health. The custom of pledging healths arose, it is
probable, out of the savage habits of the times, when every man dreaded treachery
And murder, but when at the same time the most violenj; among them respected a
pledge and strictly kept their word. When a man took up the large tankard to
drink he pledgea his word to his neighbour that he would protect him, while
drinking, trom violence, if the other would pledge his troth, that is, his " truth," in
like manner, for his safety, while he was in the act of drinking, and thereby
obstructing his view, and exposing his throat to an enemy.^ "Wassail" is also
sometimes used to signify what in the Midland Counties is called lamb's wool, i.e,,
roasted apples in strong beer, with sugar and spices, and thence from its results
festivity, intemperance, and riot.
* The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.' — Shakespeare,
*In explanation of this word, Mr. QiflPord remarks : — " This word has never been
properly explained. It occurs in Hamlet, where it is said bv Steevens, as well as
Johnson, to mean a quantity of liquor rather too large ; the leitter derives it from
rusch, half-drunk. Germ., while he brings carouse from par ause, all out I Bouse
and carouse, however, like m/e and revve, are but the reciprocation of the same
action, and must, therefore, be derived from the same source. A rouse was a large
glass (* not past a pint,' as lago says), in which a health was given, the drinking
of which by the rest of the company formed a carouse. Barnaby Bich is exceed-
ingly angry with the inventor of this custom, which, however, with a laudable zeal
for the honour of his country, he attributes to an Englishman, who, it seems, * had
his brains beat out with a pottlepot ' for his ingenuity." " In former ages," says
be, *• they had no conceit whereby to draw on drunkennesse " — (Barnaby was no
great historian) — " their best was, I drink to you, and I pledge yon, till at length
some shallow -witted drunkard found out the carouse, an invention of that worth
*Thi9 * carousing' tending to frequent quarrels, and many other evils, the Sazon King
Ednr enacted a law, which he strictly enforced, ordering that certain marks should be
made in their drinking cups, at a particular height, abore which they were forbidden to fill
them under a heavy penalty. This law, however, as Bapin relates, was but a short time in
^K)ntinuanoe, being too mucn opposed to the national character to be long maintained.
I Dean Hoare's * English Boots,' Leot. II., p. 76-6.
40 Byewaya of English.
and worthioesae as it is pitie the flrst founder was not banged, that iro mii^t
have found out his name in the antient record of the hangman's reffiiter. —
English Hue and Cry, 1017, p. 24. It i» newssary to add, that there oould be no
route or carouse unless the glasses were emptied. *' The leader,** continues honest
Bamaby. " soupes up liis breath, tumes the bottom of the cuppe upward, and in
ostentation of his dexteritie, gives it a phjlip, to make it cnr tf/nge!^* id. ^ "In
process of time, both these words were used in a laxer sense/ — PA&tp Mmmnffera
Wbrkit, edited hj William Gifford, p. 61.
* Rustic meetings of festivity, at particular seasons, were formerly caUed «/«, a»
Church-ale, Whitsun-ale, Bride-ale, Kidsummer-ale, &c Carew, in bia Swrve^of
Comwali, edition 17C0, p. 6S gives the following account of the Chorch-ale, with
which it is mo«t likely the otliers agreed : — «• For the Churoh-ale, two younp men of
the parish are yerely chosen by their last foregoers, to be wardens, who, diTidinc Uia
task, make colfection among the parishioners, of whaterer provision it pleaseth them
Toluntarily to bestow. This they employ in brewing, baking, and other aoate^
against Whitsontide, upon which holydayes the neighbours meet at the ehurch-
housc, and there merily feede on their owne victuals, contributing by some pet^
portion to the stock, which by many smalls groweth to a meetly greatnea ; for there
18 entertayned a kinde of emulation betwoene these wardens, who, by his gracioos-
nes in gathering, and good husbandry in expending, can best advance the churoh*8
profit Besides, the neighbour parishes at those times lovingly visit one another,,
and this way frankly spend their money together. The afternoons are oonaumed
in such exercises as olde and yong folke (having leysure) doe aocustomably weare oat
the time withall. In the subsequent pages, Carew enters into a defence of thooe
meetings, which, in his time, had become productive of riot and disorder, and were
among the subjects of complaint by the more rigid Puritans.'
Prom Hippocrates, the most celebrated physician of anti-
quity, bom in Cos about B.C. 460, we get the name of an
aromatic medicated wine, which was formerly much used in
this country at all ^eat entertainments, and much spoken of
by the poets and dramatists, Ilippocras. It was a compound
of equal parts of Lisbon and Canaiy, and was prepared,
according to an old recipe, thus : ^far lords, with gynger, syna-
mon, and graynes, sugour, and turesoU ; and for comynpepxdl,
gynger, canell, long pepper, and clarifyed honey ' formea tho
spices used. This wine was strained, and, as the woollen bag
used by apothecaries to strain syrups and decoctions requiring
clarification was called Hippocrates' Sleex'e, this accident may
have connected tho ancient physician's name with this modem
strong drink. The poets are known frequently to have
mistaken this hxppocras for Hippocrene, the fountain of the
horse Pegasus.
Bastard seems to havo been a mixed Spanish wine. Hen-
derson, in his ' History of Wines,' is puzzled to tell what it
was. Shakespeare ffpoaks, in 'Measure for Measure,' of
'white and brown bastard/ and makes Jack Falstaff say
'your brown bastard is your only drink.' In Beaumont and
Fletcher's ' Tho Woman's Prize, or the Tamer Tamed/ we
get this hint of its quality : —
* I was drunk with bastard.
Whose nature 'tis to form things like itself —
Heady and monstrous.' II., i.
Byeways of English. 41
A liquor composed of honey and ale was, in Shakespeare's
time, from the high tone it gave to the talk of its consumers,
called Braggart ; and for the same reason, namely, that it
inspirited those who drunk it to set their caps in a huffy
manner, it was called huff-cap.
' Colonel Negus (Archbishop Trench says), in Queen Anne's
time, first mixed the beverage which goes by his name/ The
quaint name of grog is said to be derived from a nickname of
Admiral Vernon, who introduced it into the service. In bad
weather he was in the habit of walking the deck in a rough
grogram cloak ; the sailors thence called him Old Grog, and
then transferred the name to the drink, which, as it consisted
of spirits diluted with water, the hero of Portobello had
contrived as a means of diminishing intoxication among his
old salts.
Oin does not, despite the similarity of its form, derive its
name from its being a snare, a trap, an ingenious contrivance
for bringing to evil. It is an abbreviation of Geneva, which
is a corruption of genievre, a juniper berry, because, when
genuine, gin is flavoured in distillation by the addition of
juniper berries, which are so called because the plant on which
they grow produces younger berries while the elder ones are
ripening. So that gin is ultimately derived, through the
French, from the Latin words junior and pario. This deri-
vation gives the key to the double entendre contained in the
slang of Shakespeare's time, when Geneva drink and Geneva
doctrines were alike new and uppermost in the thoughts of
many (different) minds ; e,g,, Graccho, a scoundrel character
in Massinger's ' Duke of Milan,' is made to say : —
* If you meet
An officer preaching of sobriety
Unless he read it in Genera print
Lay him by the heels.
Julio (a courtier). But think you 'tis a fault
To be found sober ?
GraccJtO, 'Tis a capital treason.' I., i.
The same jest occurs in the * Merry Devil of Edmonton,^
where Blague, the host of ' The George,' at Waltham, says
to Smug, the smith : — ' Smith ! I see by thy eyes thou hast
been reading a little Geneva print :' i.e., been drinking gin till
blear-eyed. This host is a great translator of Cooper's Dic-
tionary, a joke about the Thesaurus Linguce Latince^ by Thomas
Cooper, 1584, and Cooper's casks; as when he says, ' Come,
follow me ! I have Charles's Wain (i.e., the seven stars in the
constellation of Ursa Minor) below in a butt of sack. It will
glister you like a crab fish/ We ought not, in connection
42 Byeways of English.
with the word gin, to forget that when the Permissive Bill
Movement succeeds the lines in Pope^s Dunciad will become a
prophecy of the lamentation of the publicans : —
* Thee shall each alehouse, thee each nllhoiue mourn
And answering gin-shops sourer si^s return.'
It is not a little remarkable in some of the writers of tlie
middle ages to read high praises of vinum theologicwm^ a
general term for those choice wines which were the products
of the lands of the church, which in those days were not only
the best cultivated, but the most secure from devastation during
feudal broils or war. But the names of some of the medicated
liquors of that time are suggestive of the vinum theologicum in
a more express sense — for example, an infusion of toasted
Seville oranges and sugar in light (Burgundy) wine is known
by the name of Bishop. As Dean Swift says : —
' Come buy my fine oranges !
Well roaJsted with sugar and wine in a cup.
They'll make a sweet Bishop when gentlefolks sap.'
When old Rhine wine is used in the mixture, it receives the
name of Cardinal^ but when Tokay is the liquor, it becomes
so superlative as to be worthy to bear the tip top title of the
Pope. It may be remarked that such spiced wine consti-
tuted so voluptuous a beverage, and ' was deemed so unsuit-
able to the members of a profession which had foresworn all
the pleasures of life, that the Council of Aix-la-ChapeHo
(817 A.D.) forbade the use of it to the regular clergy, except
on days of solemn festivals.' We do not know that the clergy
were permitted to drink Canary ; perhaps it was a wine of a
too frolicsome nature for priests, from its tendency to
* Make jou dance canary
With sprightly fire and motion.'
But if we could believe in the Epistolae Eo-Elxance, or
Familiar Letters of James Howell, Historiographer-Royid of
Charles II., the priesthood ought not only to have drank
copiously of Canary themselves, but to have strongly com-
mended it to their hearers as a good substitute for their
teaching, unless (as we fear must be thought to be the case),
James Howell was in a satirical humour when he wrote, for
he says : — ' Of this wine, if of any other, may be verified the
merry induction, that good wine maketh good blood, good
blooa causeth good humours, good humours cause good
thoughts, good thoughts bring forth good works, good works
carry a man to heaven ; ergo^ good wine carrieth a man to
Byeways of English. 43
heaven. JjTtliis be true, surely more English go to heaven
this way than any other ; for I think there is more Canary
brought to England than to all the world besides/ Despite
the episcopal patronage of wine indicated in the phrases and
terms above quoted, and the implied favour for it among the
clergy, there can be no doubt that Chaucer had a better idea
of the antipathy between wine and good works than to regard
it as vinum theologicum. This we may learn from The
Pardoner^ 8 Tale, in these terms : —
' A lecherous thing is wine, and dronkenesse
Is ful of striTing and of wretchednesse.
O dronken man, disfigured is thj face,
Sour is thy hreth, foul art thou 1^ embrace :
And thurgh thy dronken nose semeth the soun,
As though thou saidst ay, Sampsoun, Sampsoon :
And yet, Gk)d wot, Sampsoun dronk neyer no wine.
Thou fidlest, as it were a stiked swise :
Thy tonge is lost, and all thin honest core,
For dronkenesse is reray sepulture
Of mannes wit, and his discretion.
In whom that drinke hath denomination,
He can no counseil kepe, it is no drede.
Now kepe ye fro the white and fro the rede,
And namely fro the white wine of Lepe,
That is to sell in Fish-strete and in Chepe.
This wine of Spaigne crepeth subtilly
In other wines growing faste by.
Of which the'r riseth swiche fumositee,
That when a man hath dronken draughtes three,
And weneth that he be at home in Chepe,
He is in Spaigne, right at the toun of Lepe/
It is curious to remark how large a portion of the English
lexicon is taken up with those words which refer directly to
the abuse of alcoholic liquors. . We have among the names
applied to those persons who partake of — should we say
indulge in ? — these fluid deceivers such terms as these : —
tippler, drunkard, toper, sot, soaker, toss-pot, reveller,
carouser, bacchanal; for the condition of being affected by
intoxicants : — ebriety, inebriety, inebriation, insobriety,
ebriosity, bibbacity, bibulency, drinking, drunkenness,
drunkonship, tippling, toping, temulency, compotation,
sottishness, revelling, carousing, intoxication ; for indicating
the state of a person who has been using drink : — tasting,
fresh, flush, flustered, disguised, overcome, overtaken, mellow,
groggy, topheavy, lightheaded, elevated, screwed, muggy,
muzzy, muddled, fuddled, nappy, tipsy, turned, touched, inebri-
ated, temulent, potulent, boozy, heady, hipped, stretched, strung,
sprung, strained, cut-up, cat-eyed, drunk, drunken, intoxicated,
lushy, maudlin, dead-drunk, bung-up, reeling, &c., to which
we may add the phrases, — in one^s cups, the worse for liqjLor^
44 Byeways of English.
half seas over, drunk as a piper, a fiddler, an owl, or a lord,
under the table, rather limp, somewhat overhauled, grog-
wittedj while we speak of habitual drinkers as cnppisn,
sottish, bibacious, liquorish, devoted to Bacchus, Sue. The
use of strong drink gives to our English tongue the following
verbs : — tipple, tope, booze, swill, guzzle, carouse, liquor,
fuddle, drink, soak, sot, swig, inebriate, intoxicate, fuzzle,
temulate, and to be intemperate, anti-teetotal, compotative,
&c. Compare this plentifulness of vocabularian distinctions,
reaching from the first tremulous overpush of the balance of
the faculties in fresh to their complete obliteration in dead-
drunk, with the scanty replenishment of phrases supplied for
use on the opposite side of temperance. We have, it is true,
moderate as a sort of see-saw go-between, temperate, some-
what in advance of that, and sober, abstinent, teetotal, very
proper terms indeed; from these we get moderation, tem-
perance, sobriety, abstinence, teetotalism, &c., words which
bring no connotatiofi of debauch, orgies, revels, and instead
of leading the mind to think of the circean cup—
' Whose ploasing poison
The yifuige quite tranRforms of him that drioks.
And the inglorious likeness of a heast
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage
Charactered in the face,'
leads us rather to take for beverage ^ Adam's wine,' whereof
tasting we are inchned to exclaim with the same post— •
* Oh madness to think use of stron^st wines
And strongest drinks our chief supports of health
When God, with these forbidden, made choice to rear
His mighty champion, strong above compare,
Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.'
When the taste for drink becomes intensified by habit, and
poverty affords no means of purchasing the usual dram of ' sky-
blue,' as gin used to be called, though it now bears the more
appropriate name of ' blue ruin,' from its extraordinary
capacity for inducing that state of despondency suggestive of
ruin of health, ' the blues,' as it is called in its earlier stages,
while in the later ones it reaches the dignity of being de-
nominated ' the blue devils,' the solicitous but unstickling
appetite of the drink-captive will drive him to buy a ha'pori£
of ' alls ' — the tap-droppings and refuse of the liquors dis-
pensed in gin-palaces gathered up into vessels. These
preserved ' drops ' of brandy, gin, rum, spirits, &q., are mixed
and sweetened especially for drink-fond females whose funds
have run low, and are dispensed under the euphemistic name
of ' loveage,' which we presume is a cunning transmutation
Byeways of English, 45
for leavings^ or beggar's-dregs. Is there not a great mass of
experience, wit, and truth wrapped up in that other cant term
for gin, ' diddle V ' Cat's water ' is another and a stranger as
well as stronger term for it when full proof, but it is con-
temptuously styled ' cat lap ^ when not the real stingo, and
when it is, an enthusiastically poetical feeling comes over the
little remnant of soul left in the dissipated consumer of the
* breaky-leg ' potation, which he designates ' cream of the
valley/ When gin is of this sort it is styled the ' duke,^ in
recognition of its high character and power of making its
partaker as 'drunk as a lord' or (jolly companions!) as
' drunk as David's sow/ This ' eye- water ' is sometimes not
quite good enough for your ' fast young swells/ They indulge
in ' flesh and blood,' as they call brandy and port mixed in
half and half quantities, or if they are university trained, with
a dim notion of the ancient physician Hippocrates, they may
prefer ' copus,' a diminutive parody of this liquid preparation,
and bemuse themselves with ale spiced and flavoured, probably
somewhat highly, with wines, spirits, &c., with as much gusto
as their common-place neighbours take ' cooper,' i.e., half stout
and half porter, as their ' common sewer ' or ' drain ' when
^ doing a wet ' and engaged in ' going it ' on the ' spree ' —
from the French esprit, sprightliness— or as university chums
phrase it, ' visiting Berlin,' a capital city always on the Spree.
Slang supplies us with quite a profusion of epithets for that
waste of life which drink induces in all its shades, degrees,
relations, and implications. We begin by being 'balmy,'
become thereafter a little 'hazy,' then get 'spiflfed,' and
afterwards 'foggy.' We cannot be long ' on the batter,' or 'on
the go,' till, having got ' queer in the attic,' we feel ' rather
of the ratherest,' and getting ' oflf our nut,' feel ' the sun in
our eyes ' for awhile, and perceive that ' there's something
rotten in the state of Denmark ;' whereon we become 'mooney/
find our intellects 'jacobed,' and our whole being 'up the
ladder,' which is the slang synonym for the euphemism of
polite society, 'elevated.' When one has 'got on his beaver,'
or is ' slated' and 'tipt,' he is apt to become 'obfuscated,' or
* fishy j' perhaps ' lumpy,' or ' podgy ' — for it is one of the
many strange efiects of being ' primed,' that we cannot con-
tinue ' doing it brown ' and ' chalking it up,' without ' be-
musing ' ourselves and feeling ' buflFy,' or ' bosky,' although
we assert that we are ' all-there-ish,' despite the ' gummy-
ness ' of our state, or our ' muggy' and ' muzzy ' appearance.
If we set out to ' Corinthianise,' and ' go in for a buster,' we
can scarcely avoid getting 'groggy,' or 'lushy,' perhaps
^ scammered,' and ' slewed;' in this state we may ' nare up ' and
46 Byeways of English.
turn ' kisky ' or ' frisky/ and show that we are 'on the freshet'
or getting 'kiddyish/ by having 'opened the sluices,' because
there was ' a screw loose/ K after partaking of ' sninmat
short' we feel ' wobbleshoppy ^ or ' winey/ and somewhat
touched with the ^ wiffle-waffles ' from ' wetting our whistle/
begin to 'wabble/ as if we were 'twisted/ 'touched/ 'top-
heavy/ and ' tol-lollish/ or ' tight/ the consciousness of being
' titley ^ and ' three sheets in the wind ' may bring us to the
'blues/ or, having rendered us 'bluey/ and given us the
feeling of being ' ploughed/ ' plucked/ ' comed>' and ' sewed
up/ may make us 'snuflFy' and anxious for a ' stretcher/ But
if we get fully ' on the rantan/ or the ' re-raw/ ' we won't go
home till moming-ish,' and ' coxy-loxy/ it is probable wo
may engage in ' getting up a barney,' or be found ' sky wan-
nocking ' under an attack of the ' gravel-rash,' or ' sky-kick-
ing/ aU ' mops and brooms,' in a ' lap in the gutter' stato,
asserting our right to be called ' Lushington,' and showing
ourselves ' Bobby-peelerish,' in which case we may prove the
necessity of 'putting in the pin,' ' teetotally,' in 'quod/
eschewing henceforward the 'hap'orth of liveliness' to be
gotten from ' neck-oil ' in any 'shivery' where 'sensations'
of 'knock-down,' hot tiger,' and 'lightning' are dispensed
in any ' boosing-ken ' or drinkery in which men are tempted
' to go to pot/ Thus slang takes us from the small-beer of
intoxication to the highest degree of fuddlement, and shows
us how the process goes on from ' swipey ' up to ' sky-kicking/
and then down to gutterdom, and being ' held in possession/
in one or two of its significations, by the ' Blues/ May men
not truly learn from this that if they desire to have ' the main
brace spliced,' it is not to bo done by getting it made 'knotty'
and ' tight ' with ' white tape,' as liquor is sometimes called^
but by taking for that purpose Robert Burns's ' stem resolve,
that carle-stalk of hemp in man,' and henceforward avoiding
the navigation of the ' Spree?' The logical ultimation of tho
vice of drunkenness is clearly demonstrated in the expressive,
progressive, and degressive vocabulary appropriated to it in
common speech — a vocabulary alternating from ether to smile,
showing how, under the influence of drink, man's moral nature
deliquesces, and the ' pot- valiancy ' it induces results in
terrific and loathsome defeat, only utterable by the gan-
grenous rhetoric of the slums, the beershop, the ginnery, the
shandy-gaflT, and the slushing-ken.
' Evil,' says the glorious Jean Paul Richter, ' is like the
nightmare, the moment you bestir yourself it has ended/ Let
the downward-going drinker determine on an upward course
of temperance, and say, ' I will rise like a living man by
Byeways of English. 47
swiminiiig,%ot like a drowned man by corruption -/ and then,
under the purifying and consolidating power of exalted feel-
ings and new habits^ the texture of his character wiU grow
fairer and firmer, conscience will exert its monarchic sway,
and all that is slangy shall fall off &om his moral being and
his temporal well-being.
It is not without a thorough knowledge of the destructive and
pernicious effects of intoxicating drinks that they are partaken
of by those whose appetites are debased and depraved by
their use. No phrases, in fact, could be more condemnatory
than those employed by the frequenters of the beershop and
the gin palace, in speaking of these so-called beverages.
Gin, though sometimes spoken of in such flattering terms as
' water of life,^ and ' cream of the valley,^ is not unfrequently
denoted by the less commendatory designations of ^ flash
of lightning,' 'stingo,' and 'blue ruin.' Women sometimes
take it in the form of ' tape,' ' white satin,' and ' white wine ;'
but when they get ' cut ' — which is an expressive word for
' tipsy ' — they sometimes venture on ' flip,' or ' hot flannel,^
which is a mixture of gin and beer taken hot. When men go
into a ' sluicery ' for a ' sensation,' a ' drain,' or a ' common
sewer,' they call the glass of gin they seek, in allusion to the
juniper, a ' nipper,' or, more briefly, a ' nip,' occasionally a
'bite,' and not unfrequently it turns out a 'flogger.'
University men make pets of ' hot tigers,' as they call ale and
sherry spiced and warm; in Cambridge, we believe, it gets the
name of ' copus,' and the peculiar sensation experienced after
a night's befuddlement is called by the commonalty 'hot
coppers ' in its early stages, though it gradually intensifies
into the ' blues,' the ' horrors,' and the ' blue devils,' — known
learnedly as delirium tremens. Brandy is sometimes called
' French cream,' but is not uncommonly spoken of familiarly
as ' Oh Davy ' (0 D V, for Eau de vie). When mixed with
port, it is known as ' flesh and blood ;' and when gin is taken
with it, by naming the cause from the effect, it gets the name
of ' twist.' When it has produced the due sensation of one's
being ' ploughed,' the next step is to go in for a ' peg,' that is,
a draught of brandy and soda-water. Gin is ingeniously bap-
tised ' diddle,' and when it is diluted in beer it is denominated
' dog's-nose,' a sufficient quantity of which is known as
a 'dodger,' and the effect produced by its consumption is
called ' Dutch courage.' Porter is ' heavy wet,' and makes
men 'top-heavy' and 'jiggered.' Ale is 'knock-down,' and
makes the consumer ' swankey,' and, though ' screwed,' indi-
cates 'a screw loose.' 'Bunker,' 'rot-gut,' and 'belly-
vengeance ' are other terms for beer ; and when these have
48 Byewaya of English.
shewn themselves as ' breaky leg ' oyer nighty it is orthodox
to have
* Twopenn'orth o' purl
Good ** early purl "
'Gin all the world
To put your hair n'ght in curl
When you *' feel yourself queer" in the morning.'
This endeavour to get up a system by stimulation has given
rise in America to the manufacture of ' cocktail ' (a compound
of whisky, brandy, or champagne, bitters, and ice),, dexter-
ously mixed in tall silver mugs made for the purpose, called
^cocktail-shakers/ Having partaken of this 'strong circean
liquor,^
They swim in mirth and fancy that they feel
Divinity within them breeding wings
Wherewith to scorn the earth.'
But it is not long before the tap-root must be touched again
to supply a ' refresher,^ in the shape of ' a hair of the dog that
bit ^ the drinker, as a new dose of the intoxicant is called.
And may we not cite that very word intoacicatian as another
proof that the evil results of such 'refreshments' are fully
known, for is not its root toxicum a poison, and has not an
invitation to drink been translated by the fast men of our day,
in allusion to this very fact, into the phrase ' nominate your
poison V That is the modern mode of trying to ' warm the
cockles of the heart/ and ' comfort the inner man,' to ' doctor '
one's self, and bring one's self ' up to the mark !' Fielding,
the novelist, speaks of the permission to open a shop for the
sale of distilled spirituous liquors as ' a license to poison,' and
calls it a traffic ' which, if not put a stop to, will infallibly
destroy a great part of the inferior people.' In the same
tract, he calls attention to a work issued in 1736, entitled
^ Distilled Spirituous Liquors, the Bane of the Nation.'
Slang recognises in the terms ^on the shine,' 'mooney,'
and ' luuey,' the close connection between drunkenness and
lunacy ; and we know that it is a very direct eflfeot of drink
to produce
< Demoniac phrensy, moping melancholy,
And moon-struck madness.'
Dr. Johnson says maudlin is derived from the corrupt
appellation of Magdalen, who is drawn by painters with
swollen eyes and disordered look; a drunken countenance
seems to have been so named from a ludicrous resemblance
to the picture of 'Magdalen,' and he adds that the word
means drunk, fuddled, approaching to ebriety. Another
Byeways of English, 49
lexicographer with quiet satire remarks, 'Magdalen' College^
At Oxford, is usually pronounced ' maudlin^' which makes this
etymology the more probable.
* Ib there a parson much bemused in beer,
A maudlin poetess, a rhjming peer,
A clerk foredoomed his father's soul to cross ' —
Who does not see in this etymology an acknowledgment of
the connection between drink and stupidity ? Even the voice
of the tombstone, when candid, tells the same story of the
enmity of drink in the end, as in the lines on a licensed
victualler in the church of Darenth, near Dartford, in Kent : —
' Oh the liquor he did Iotc, but nerer wiU no moe
For what he loved did turn his foe *
For on the 28th of January 1741 that fatal daj
The debt he owed he then did pay.'
Whatever we may think of this as verse, it gives assurance
of the fact that there is woe in strong drink — a fact vouched
for, too, in our proverbial literature : —
' *' More perish by intemperance than are drowned in the sea/' Is this anything
better than a painful, yet at the same time a flat truism ? But let it be put in this
shape : More are drowned in the wine-cup than in the ocean ; or, again, in this :
More are drowned in beer and in wine than in water (and these both are German
prorerbs), and the assertion assumes quite a different character. There is some-
thing that lays hold on us now. We are struck with the smallness of the oup as
set against the rastness of the ocean, while yet so many more deaths are ascribed to
that than to this ; and, further, with the fact that literally none are, and none could
be, drowned in the former, while multitudes perish in the latter.' *
Thus, we see that common experience as expressed in proverbs
and popular knowledge, registered in words, prove conclusively
that the danger and the disgrace of liquoring habits is perfectly
admitted as a fact, of which the intellect has not fair ground
for doubting ; and yet we know that the moral of this know-
ledge has not sunk sufficiently into the hearts of men to
persuade and convince them of the pemiciousness of the
habits of society which aro concerned with the drink-traffic,
-and the indulgence in which it finds patronage.
On a thoughtful consideration of the several matters in con-
nection with what may be called English byeway words, we
think the following remarks may be justified. That the right
use of right words is as important for the culture and purity of
the conscience, as for the preservation of a good style, and the
promotion of perspicuity. That words are true witnesses
regarding the ideas which commonly hold a place in men's
minds. That the prevalency of wicked words — literary and
vernacular — proves that ' the imaginations of the thoughts ' of
* Archbishop Trench * On the Lessons in Froyerbs.' Lect. I., p. 17.
Vol. 12.— ^o. 45. D
50 Byeways of English.
the human heart are veiy evO; and that the ready and
popular nse of words wearing an innocent look, yet concealing-
an inner allusion to depraved habits or sinful customs, showa
that the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked. But more particularly, and coming more closely to
our present point, we believe we may safely affirm, that the
extraordinarily copious special lexicon of the drink-traflSa
and the habits connected with it, or the results flowing from
it, demonstrates its prevalence, power, and activity, its wide-
spread influence, its popularity and pervasion of all ranks^
classes, and professions. But more even than this, the
largeness of the number of the euphemisms which have been
gathered roimd it, proves that drunkenness is a cunning,
hypocritical, soul-condemned practice, afraid of detection,
sneaking and ashamed, soul-deceiving too, for it invents
plausible phrases that it may feign to use as the words of
truth and soberness. AVhat a miserable picture does
language show us of the workings of the hearts of those who
wish to keep drinking respectable ; what a shrinking horror
of the rude, rough, honest, outspoken, expressive language of
the times, when men seemed what they were, and what a
kindly welcoming of the great insidious vice into the bosom I
If of the social drinking customs of our age it is a shame even,
to speak, how much more shameful ought it be to practise and
encourage them ? The very language which we use regarding
drink proves that in our use of it we stand self-condemned
within our own souls, and, in the inner sanctuary of our own
consciences, seek to palter with the truth, by employing
language in a double or a doubtful sense. Let the whole
cobwebbery of sophistic euphemism and cant which the
drink-traffic has woven round itself be swept away, let drink
and its sale be spoken of in plain, intelligible, round, unvar-
nished terms, and how long would the demon of iniquity hold
his place of triumph and malign influence ? Scared by the
blunt honesty of words so used as to express truth above all
things, the soul would stand aghast at its depravity,
conscience would awaken from its infernal spell-bound
trance, repentance would seize on the spirit, and reform — God-
blessed personal reform — would scatter at once to the winds
the power of the treacherous enemy, and sober earnestness
would supplant routine and fashion, and the passive following
of the common practices of our generation in regard to the
drink customs of society. Then, indeed, might we hope for
the triumph of ^ Meliora ^ — better things.
(51)
THE PROPERTY OF MARRIED V/OMEN.
THE common law of this country recognises in the married
woman only a sort of appendage to her husband. In
the contemplation of the law, as it is coolly stated, 'The
husband and wife are one person, and the husband is that
person/ If wo were to say that England and Scotland are
one island, and England is that island, our Scottish
friends would lift the sounding shell of protest at once;
but Scotland and England, although they are united,
have not been married, and Scotia manages to hold her own.
The principality, on the other hand, would seem to havo
entered into full enjoyment of the matrimonial blessings.
Wales, like a savage bride, was first well beaten and then
annexed ; and so it happens that England and Wales are at
this day one kingdom, and that England is that kingdom.
In our Common Law Courts, the married woman, as far as
concerns her possession of property, is not held to have any
legal existence independently of her husband. In a sense
which has no reference to her bulk, she is pronounced ' incap-
able of contracting / and although her tongue and ears are
not actually taken from her, yet it is declared that she can
neither sue nor be sued. Her property at marriage ceases to
be her's, and vests in her husband, or passes under his
management and control during their joint lives. If it is
' real estate/ the husband, it is true, must go through the
formality of getting her consent, by some process or other,,
ere he can sell it ; but as long as he and she both live, the
whole income from it is the husband's, to have and to hold, to
spend or to give, to waste or to throw away ; and he is not
bound in law to make any special provision for her out of it.
As for her personal property, it is his absolutely ; and her
leasehold property likewise is his, except that if he happens
not to sell it, and she survives him, she can reclaim it.
Neither for her nor her children is he bound to make any
provision for the future out of the property she brings. And ^
all that she earns during marriage is his. In short, the case
between the pair is just as described in the old tale : —
^What's yours is mine, and what's mine's my own;' thus
John exults, and Joan has no remedy.
Woman had never gone in this way to the wall in past dark
ages whilst common law was being slowly brewed and distilled,
had not her sex been found to be the weakest; — weakest
physically, which is the most decisive point of weakness in all but
very highly civilised states ; weakest intellectually, which again.
52 The Property of Married Women.
is fatal to any claim in days when muscle and intellect are the
two sole lords of life ; only strongest morally and religiously,
which sort of strength is accounted as another and worse sort
of weakness by all except God and the children of light. And
so being weakest, woman went to the wall, and got sadly
bruised against it. And if the men who made the law had
not had daughters as well as wives, the system would not have
received the slightest mitigation. But it happened that the
equity of the case was apt to assume contrary aspects when
viewed from diflferent points. To take a woman to wife and
to sweep all her property iuto one's chest by the same process
was, of course, unobjectionable and equitable, so long as she
was another man's daughter. But that another man should
do this with one's own daughter was not exactly the same
sort of thing. One's own daughter certainly might require
protection for her property; it cculd not be just that she
should be deprived of all at the mere pleasure of her husband.
And so the men who made the law were driven to devise an
elaborate system under which, by ante-nuptial arrangement,
the unjust common law might be defeated. The common law
was good enough as between themselves and their wives, but
it was not quite the sort of thing for the equitable interests of
their daughters. Therefore, said they, let it be over-ridden
for the benefit of these daughters. And as these daughters
happened all to be rich men's daughters, the over-riding was
made possible for the wealthy alone. For although the poor
daughter's one ewe lamb is really of more concern to her than
the rich daughter's flock is to the rich daughter, yet who
cared in those days for the feelings or welfare of the poor ?
Such, accordingly, is the law of property for married women
as it stood of yore in England, and as it continues to this day.
Contrivances for protecting the daughters of the rich were
very cautiously introduced. First, the wife's separate existence
was recognised just far enough to enable trustees to hold
property for her outside the control of her husband. Afterwards,
it was aiTanged that the wife should in respect of this separate
property 'enjoy,' as the lawyers say, 'all the incidents of
property ; ' — contract and be made liable on her contracts,
and indirectly sue and bo sued in equity. Next, it was
agreed that a husband might be a trustee for his wife, and be
called to account on her behalf. Later on, in order to preserve
rich men's daughters from suffering from their own imprudence
or from the undue influence of the husband, a process was
invented whereby the wife could be restrained from anticipating
the income of her separate property ; so that no act of her
own should deprive her of the right of receiving her dividends
The Property of Married Women. S?
as they became due. Means also were devised by whicli, after
marriage, a wife becoming entitled to property as next of kin,
or by will, might claim a portion of it for herself and children,
as a settlement to secure her against the bad luck or bad
management of her husband. This ^ equity to a settlement '
was at first only allowed in cases where the husband had to
seek the intervention of the Courts in his own behalf, and
where, in return for the assistance rendered him, they felt
themselves in a position to insist on his acting equitably.
Afterwards, however, they enlarged their jurisdiction; and now,
in all cases in which property accrues to the wife after
marriage, she is entitled, on application, to a share of it in
settlement, if adequate provision has not been previously
made, or if other circumstances warrant it ; but if the property
once gets into the husband's hands, the Courts are powerless.
The Court3 of Equity have thus by a series of slow and
awkward steps, and by resorting to clumsy legal fictions,
managed to a large extent to enable wealthy people to avoid
the consequences of the vicious old common law. The
common law relation between husband and wife has been so
far set aside, and instead of it has been substituted a very
different relation between wife and husband. The question
irresistibly arises upon this state of facts, — ^why for the wealthy
only ? why not for the poor ? If the common law is nullifi-
able in this matter for the convenience of the rich, why should
it be maintained at all to the disadvantage of the poor and
unprotected woman ?
Even, however, for the wealthy, a change in the law is
desirable, because the marriage settlement system is not only
cumbrous and clumsy, but it is far from being completely
just. In cases, for example, where a wife is allowed an equity
to a settlement in respect of property coming to her after
marriage, the whole sum is not given to the wife, as it ought
to be, but a portion of it is devoted to the husband or to his
creditors or assignees. This is so, even in cases where he is
living apart from his wife ; and should it happen that the
property has got into his hands, the Courts are unable to
apply a remedy. Again, in the case of married women^s
contracts, the Equity Courts recognise her right to contract
with reference to her separate estate ; but they do not allow
her a general right to make contracts, because that would be
contrary to the common law doctrine that a married woman
has no such power. Thus arise various anomalous and
unsatisfactory restrictions.
* Thus 'vehere written oontract« are made by a married woman, the Courts
presume that thej are made with reference to her separate estate, but they do not
54 Tlic Projyedy of Mm^ied Women.
make this presumption in the case of debts orally contracted, as bj orden for
goods, in which case unless the separate estate is mentioned at the time of the
contract, there is no remedy against it ; and it has been further indicated, as m
consequence of this doctrine, tnat contracts with reference to a wife's separate
eatate, are in the nature of appointments of that estate, and that creditoni of this
kind rank not equally with one another, but according to priorities of time. It
also appears that the means of recovering against the estate of a married woman,
through the process of equity, are very exponsiye and unsatisfactory, and often lead
.to a denial of justice, ' *
'Bometimes, too, it occurs that, through accident or remiss-
ness, no settlement has been made ; and then the improvi-
dence, ill-conduct, or misfortune of the husband strips the
wife of the whole of her own property.
And whilst thus the existing system of circumventing the
common law fails to do all it ought to do for the wealthy, it
is, from its expensivcnoss, quite beyond the reach of persons
of small means, whoso property, however little it may be, is of
just as much importance to them as is the larger hoard to the
affluent. Why should that be retained as a fundamental
principle of law, which the Courts of Equity are constantly
doing their utmost to set aside ? And why should a yoke,
which the rich are enabled to throw off, be fastened without
remedy on the necks of the humbler classes ? In short, why
one law for the rich and another for the poor ?
The law which gives the wife's earnings to her hnsband
works much hardship. In many cases the husband lives on
his wife, and spends his hours in dissipation. Mr. G. W,
Hastings, in his evidence before the Select Committee, spoke
of a number of such cases which had been laid before him.
There were women whose husbands lived in drunkenness, and,
very often, kept mistresses, entirely on the earnings of their
wives. A married Irish lady had perpetual leasehold property
producing about £2,000 a year ; her husband sold and spent
the produce of her leaseholds, then deserted her, and she had
to earn her living in London by making artificial flowers. A
widow, whoso husband, a tradesman, had left her the whole of
hia property, married a widower, and whilst so doing had no
idea that she was endowing him with all her worldly goods,
and did not find out the truth until he had tiiken the whole of
her property. Had she known tho state of the law, she might
have secured herself by marriage settlement ; and had the law
been as it should have been, it would have given her, as a
matter of course, the protection which her ignorance rendered
so necessary. One of the mcst common cases of hardship is
that of women of the weekly wage class, and of those a little
* Special Report from the Select Committee on Married Women'd Property
Bill. Ordered by the House of Commons to be printed.
Tlis Property of Married Women. 55
above tliem, such as milliners, who have saved money previous
to their marriage. The smallness of the amount places a
marriage settlement out of the question ; and the consequence
is that the husband sweeps sAl away immediately. Thus a
lady^s maid saved money through ten or twelve years of
service ; she married ; her husband got possession of ber
money, spent it all in profligacy, then deserted her, and went
off to the Brazils with another woman. The lady whose
servant she had been, becoming acquainted with her sad case,
took compassion on her and set her up as a milliner at
Torquay ; a good business was got together, and upwards of
£100 were placed in the savings^ bank as the result of her
ioil. The husband returning from the Brazils, found out the
state of the case, went to the bank, claimed the whole of the
money, took it out, and went back to the Brazils with it to
the woman with whom he was living. This occurred, it is
true, before the law was altered so as to protect the earnings
of married women whose husbands have deserted them. But
even yet the new law only applies in cases where the husband
absolutely and for two years deserts the wife ; and there is
nothing in it to prevent the husband frbm living upon his
wife's earnings, going away for a month or twenty months at
a time with another woman, and then returning and snatching
the wages which his unhappy wife had earned. Mr. A. Hob-
iouse, Q.C., told the Select Committee that he had known
some most cruel cases of the kind. One he mentioned was of
a married woman in service, having an idle and dissipated
husband, who could not be considered to have deserted her,
she being in service, and against whom, therefore, she could
not obtain any legal protection. Every twelve months or so,
he came and swept away every farthing that his thrifty wife
had managed to lay by. The Rev. Septimus Hansard nar-
rated the case of a woman who had saved a little money in
preparation for the time of her confinement, and whose
husband actually took from her all the little hoard, and left
her destitute. Mr. Mansfield, the police magistrate, spoke
of the case of the widow of a master carter at Liverpool,
who was married to her late husband's foreman. Very shortly
after the marriage the husband dissipated the property, which
was considerable, and so grossly ill-treated her that the inter-
vention of the magistrate became necessary. 'Of course,'
added this witness, ' if the property had remained in the wife,
the foreman would have behaved properly ; his conduct would
have been as good after his marriage as it was before ; the
property would not have been dissipated, and the wife would
not have been reduced to the workhouse, which she was/
56 The Property of Married Women.
Another witness, Mr. Mundella, now M.P. for Sheffield^ gave-
the Committee one or two instances in point. He knew a
woman who was married to a widower with one child ; to that
child she was very kind, and she has, in fact, brought it np.
When married to this man she had a good home of her own,
and yet the wretch has persecuted and neglected her, and his
drunken conduct has been so bad as to compel her to take her
furniture and go away with his child. That man has gone to
her house while she has been away at work, and would
repeatedly have sold the goods had not the neighbours inter-
posed obstacles to prevent him from making oflF with the
whole of her property. Another case known to Mr. Mundella^
is that of an excellent woman, whose husband, acting on
the principle of killing no murder, has only stopped short of
that crime in his cruel and abominable treatment of her. Driven
away by his brutality, she managed to get a Uttle home of her
own together again ; and five years ago she had a legacy left
her, which would have made her very comfortable if she could
but have received it. The trustees, however, were not able
to pay it without her husband^ s signature, and so she had to
forego its possession, and still lacks it, knowing that if her
husband came to hear of it, he would inevitably seize it. Mr.
Mundella knows a number of cases of women who marry early,
and often earn as much as the man ; aware that he can help
himself to their earnings, the husband neglects work and
becomes dissipated ; the maintenance of the family thus fells
upon the woman ; and on Saturday, when she takes home her
earnings, the man deprives her of most or all of these, and
spends the money in drink. ^ It is lamentable,' says Mr. Mun-
della, ' to what an extent the earnings of women are often
dissipated by bad husbands, and they have no protection/
It has been suggested that cases of this nature might be
met by an extension of the law now to some extent protecting
deserted wives, so as to apply to women whose husbands are
intemperate, reckless, idle, or cruel. But this would, in feet,
be a very insufficient remedy, because few women, while con-
tinuing to live with their husbands, would come forward to
claim such protection, and therewith make their domestic
grievances public ; and because, again, in many cases the
protection would come too late when the woman did at length
make up her mind to obtain it. Long before it would be
possible to get the protection order, the wife's savings would
be swept off. To give labouring women an absolute property
in and control over their own earnings and savings, would be
conferring an unspeakable benefit. And it is worthy of note
that there are proofs that if the better class of working men
The Property of Married W&nien. 57
had the making of the law, they would legislate in this sense.
This is shown at Eochdale, in the famous Equitable Pioneer
Co-operative Society, which consists almost exclusively of
working men and women. Married women are not only
allowed to be members on their own behalf, but their invest-
ments are guarded by the rules so that their husbands cannot
withdraw them. Of course, if the husbands chose to be
troublesome, it would be diflScult to resist their claim, so long
as the law of the land remains as it is. It would relieve the
directors of much annoyance, and would tend to encourage
provident habits in wives, if the law were changed. Mr.
Ormerod, who was president of the society when before the
Select Committee, said distinctly that in all cases the society
does, with the assent of the directors, who are working men,
give married women a separate property in their shares ; he
has never known or heard tell of any refusal on the part of
the directors to give all the protection they can to married
women having money in the society, and when the question
has been mooted the members have never demurred to it.
Against all changes, however promisingly beneficial, our
cautious instincts naturally rise up ; and the ponderous con-
servatism of this country is so powerful, that it is not at all
likely that those who advocate an amendment of the law affect-
ing the earnings and property of married women, would be
considered judicious any time on this side the twenty-first
century, were it not that other communities, less afraid of
change, have altered the law, and do rejoicingly adhere to the
alteration. It is a fact that throughout the greater number
of the United States, and in the dominion of Canada, the
English common law on this subject has been repealed, and
women, after marriage, now retain their separate property,
with power to contract, and to sue and be sued in respect of
it, just as if they were single. So strong has been the opinion
in favour of this change in some of the more recently consti-
tuted Western States, that it has actually been made part of
the State constitution, so as to be unrcpealable except with
much greater deliberation than is necessary for ordinary laws
of the States.
The commencement of the change was in Vermont, in
1840; and other States soon followed the example. New
York State, in 1848, gave married women control over their
own property, but did not extend the protection to their
earnings till 1860, and then it wholly repealed the common
law. The date of the change in Massachusetts was 1857 ; in
Upper Canada, 1859. This amendment of the law is stated
by the witnesses to have been everywhere beneficial. An
58 The Property of Married Women.
ex-governor of Massactnsetts, Mr. Waslibum, now Professor
of Law at Harvard University, who opposed the change with
the apprehension that it would cause angry and unkind feeling
in families, and open the door for fraud, now admits that he is
so far convinced to the contrary that he would not restore the
common law if ho c< uld. In short, the alteration has given
entire satisfaction. None of the evils suggested as likely to flow
from it have been observed. It has not caused dissension in
families, nor weakened the proper authority of husbands^ nor
given rise to frauds to any noteworthy extent. It has lessened
the number, but it has not abolished, marriage settlements.
Where a woman owning much property is about to be married^
trustees are still empowered to act for her benefit, as of yore;
and in devises by will careful fathers still are found making a
corresponding provision where the amount of bequest is con-
siderable. It is to women of small fortunes that the chief
benefit has accrued in America, — to whom a provision by
marriage settlement through trustees was not open on account
of the expense and difficulty, but who are now made equally
secure with no trouble and expense to themselves. In
America the number of such women is very large, whereas
married women earning wages are comparatively rare. These
exist more commonly in the manufacturing towns of Massa-
chusetts, and there the new law is found to work admirably.
It has ' brought to the women of the poorer classes,' says Mr.
Wells, judge of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, 'a
relief which touches the springs of hope and energy, and
which, I believe, will affect their lives to a degree far beyond
any influence that can be felt through property merely by
those who are the fortunate possessors of pecuniary wealth/
The law has not been altered in exactly the same degree in
all the Slates that have welcomed its amendment. In Massa-
chusetts the wife is debarred from selling real estate or shares
in corporations without the consent of her husband, the
husband retains his right to the personality of the wife if she
dies without having made a will, and the courts of law having
held that the wife could not be in partnership with her
husband, the Legislature has enacted that she cannot be a
partner with any third person, and that if she wishes to canr
on any trade apart from her husband she must register herself
as a separate trader, in due form. This restriction, however,
does not apply to the case of simple earnings. The liability
of the husband for his wife's debts still remains as before.
In the State of New York the change has been more
sweeping. Even real estate may be sold by the wife without
her husband's consent; and she seems to be at liberty to
Tlie Property of Married Women, 59
enter into partnership or to carry on a separate trade. Yet
the common law in New • York, as in Massachusetts, still
remains unrepealed as regards husband and wife taking
property by gift, grant, or conveyance from each other, or
contracting with or suing one another upon contracts or for
torts. In Upper Canada the change resembles that in New
York, except that it has not been yet extended to earnings.
The old French law of Lower Canada, under which great
facilities were given to married women to obtain separation
des biens by simple declaration before a notary at marriage,
had worked so well that it contributed greatly to the change
of the English common law in Upper Canada.
Fortified by abundant and most reliable testimony as to the
excellent results of the change in America, the Select Com-
mittee have reported altogether favorably to it. They say : —
*Your Committee attribate much weight to the evidence from those States
because, where so great a change of law is proposed, the arguments as to the results
must necessarily be of a theoretical character, unless thej can be drawn from
experience; and if in countries with populations so similar in everj respect to that
of this country, with the same laws up to a recent period, and where the same *
complaints were made against the operation of it, the common law has been
changed without difRculty, and without causing those evils which were anticipated
there, and which are feared here, there is every reason to believe that those fears
are groundless, and that the same good results will follow in this country. Among
the working classes the number of women earning wages is so much greater than
in the United States, that there is good reason to believe the results of the change
will be even more satisfactory, in so far as they will extend to so many more
persons.
'Looking, therefore, to the result of this experience, and to the general tendency
of the provisions of equity, your Committee is of opinion that a cnange in the law
of this country, with reference both to the property and earnings of married women,
is necessary.'
But then comes the question, whether any alteration should
be made in the liability of a husband to maintain his wife in
consequence of such a change in the law regarding the
property of married women ? The Committee conclude that
such alteration is not necessary : —
* A married woman living with her husband has an authority which, in spite of
some fluctuation and uncerUinty of judicial decisions, seems to be regulated by the
general principles of the law of agency. Agency is a mixed question of law and
fact, ana the Courts will give due weight to such a fact as the possession of property
by a married woman without any express statutable directions.*
Questions still remain which the Committee have not
felt themselves able to dispose of thus summarily, or at all.
For instance : — Should the poor-law liability of the father for
the maintenance of the children be extended to the mother ?
Should the change in the law be confined to future marriages
only, or should it be applied, as it has been in Upper Canada,
60 The Property of Married Women.
to existing marriages, where after-acquired property is con-
cerned ? Should the restrictions in alienation of property by
the wife, which the Massachusetts code imposes, be adopted
in this country ? Should the wife's power to contract, convey,
and take by conveyance, be extended to contracts with, or
conveyances to or from, her husband, or be limited to third
parties as appears to be the case in some of the American
States ? Again : On the death of the wife without having
made a will, should any part of her personal property go to
her next of kin, or the whole to her husband ? These
questions the Committee cautiously felt that they had not
had time to discuss thoroughly before the close of the Session
compelled them to report their proceedings ; and they have
left at the end of their report a recommendation that a Select
Committee be appointed in the new Session of Parliament to
pursue those points of inquiry.
Not seeing any real necessity for postponing action, Mr,
Russell Gurney, Mr. Headlam, and Mr. Jacob Bright have
just brought in a Bill to amend the law with respect to the
property of married women. It proposes that married women
shall be capable of holding property, of contracting, of suing
and of being sued, equally with single women. Property
acquired after the Act has come into operation by women
married before that time, is to be hold by them as if they had
remained unmarried. The earnings of a married woman are
to bo her personal estate. A husband is not to be liable for
his wife's debts contracted before marriage, nor in damages
for any wrong committed by her. Upon the death of a wife
intestate, her husband is to take the same distributive share
in her personal estate as a wife would take in the personal
estate of her husband if he died intestate. The right of any
husband to hold his wife's real estate as tenant by courtesy
is not to be interfered with. Disputes between husband and
wife as to personal property are to be decided in a summaiy
way, either party being allowed to apply to any Chancery or
county court judge, who will be empowered to make any
order that he may think fit. If a wife has allowed her
husband to receive the rents and profits of her personal estate,
the husband is not to be held liable to account for them.
The Act is to come into operation on the first of January next,
and is not to extend to Scotland. It has our cordial i?dshes
for its success.
(01 )
EGBERT FALCONER.
AS an earnest teacter of that whict is now to be called
' The Enthusiasm of Humanity/ George Macdonald
stands, perhaps, unrivalled among the novelists of to-day.
The book before us is in his best style, and has the remark-
able merit of at once avoiding the insipidities of an ordinary
novel, and of maintaining, with almost no plot, the reader's
interest unabated even to the last chapter. The faults which
in our eyes stain most of the novels of the age, are not entirely
absent from ' Robert Falconer.^ The example set by Mrs.
Gaskell, and followed only too willingly by her successors,
George Eliot and others, has apparently been too powerful
in its influence over Mr. Macdonald for him to withstand and
deviate from. Wo hold, as a first principle, that for all true
teachers of mankind the setting forth of truth, beauty, and
purity is at once the noblest and the surest way of advancing
that ^ Enthusiasm of Humanity ' which such teachers as Mr.
Madonald adopt for their creed. It is, doubtless, continually
argued, in reply to such strictures, that an artist must be
true to nature ; that he must paint the dark as well as the
bright side of that human nature which it is his purpose to
delineate ; — that if he finds corruption, whether in the palace
or the cottage, he must paint it, gibbeting it as best he may,
showing its vileness to the utmost of his power, but still not
suppressing, but setting it forth. We, however, would still
urge that with the poet, and such in truth the novelist claims
to be, especially the prophet-novelist, like our author,
truth and beauty, the lessons he has to teach, must ever
stand in his estimation far higher than the work of the mere
artist recording just what he sees. Just as we read in the
days of our childhood in that ancient child^s book, ^Evenings
at Home,' that the young artist was not to occupy himself
with the study of Musus naturae,' such as the duck standing
on one leg, so the poet-artist, who has a true realisation of
the holiness of his vocation, will see it his duty, as did the
preacher of old, to commend himself and his work, not by
manifestation of the false, of the corrupt, of the odious, but
^ by manifestation of the truth,' to every reader's conscience.
The sketch of Robert's boyhood and early youth under the
oare, we might almost say surveillance, of his pious but
austere grandmother, is one which for dramatic power of
treatment must needs hold a high place in our memory of the
story. The incessant strain of the boy-nature with its poetical
tendencies against the repressive government system adopted
62 Robert Falconer.
by the grandmother^ itself a legitimate outcome of the high-
toned, yet somewhat narrow religious training in which she
had grown up, is delineated with a power of insight into the
boy-character worthy of our most able dramatists ; while the
ever-recurring, never absent background shadow of the dis-
honoured son and father, the intended quest for whom becomes
the guiding idea of Robert's every thought, haunts the reader
scarcely less than the image of her * Anerew ' does the grand-
mother.
In one respect, however, we must doubt whether our author
has not made of ^Robert' an unreal character, and that is in his
intense love of, and insight into, the poetry of nature. We
believe that all revelation of the unseen, whether in the world
of spirit or of imagination, comes to man through human
channels. It does not appear to us possibly true that a boy^
living like Robert in a small country town, which Rothieden
clearly is, with nature close to him and familiar to him from
his childhood, should, because he goes a few miles out of this
village-town to spend a fortnight at his farmer-uncle's, become
so responsive as he docs to the voices of nature, without the
intervention of any human soul to open and unlock to him
that closed door. To a child who has never seen the son
shine on green fields and waving tree-boughs, such a revela-
tion may be, nay is, not impossible; but we belieVe our
experience in this respect will be endorsed by other observers
of boy-nature, that to the country-bred boy such a revelation
comes not direct, but ever by transmission from some inspired
human soul.
And here we must noto another — shall we say weakness ?
in our author. Music has, indeed, a remarkable power over
his hero, and it is through its teaching that nature's voices
speak to him ; but really the large part which Mr. Macdonald
makes music to take in the salvation, regeneration, and eleva-
tion of nearly all his principal characters does sometimes
almost provoke a smile. It is the saving of Mysie and of
' Anerew,' the one redeeming quality of ' the soutar,' and a
quasi-halo of glory around Miss St. John.
Let us not be misunderstood. We do not ' sneer,' as Mr.
Macdonald says, ^ at the notion of making the violin a min-
istering spirit in the process of conversion.' Oh, no ; we can
well understand its value in such special cases as ^ Anerew's/
but it is hardly to be supposed that so many persons should
be similarly affected in one small circle, such as that presented
to us in these volumes.
It is, however, most encouraging that this intense musical
passion, which both hero and heroine share^ should fail to
Robert Falcofier. 63
interfere with the life-work to which they aflerwards so zeal-
ously betake themselves^ and even still more remarkable that
the music passion seems almost to fade away out of this
earnest life, which London finds for them.
All these, however, are merely minor flaws, say rather sun-
gilt motes, which detract in no degr :e from the beauty of the
narrative, and the thrilling earnestness of the chief actors.
The shock -headed Shargar must not be passed unnoticed
by. The part ho occupies in the tale is an unwonted, yet an
interesting one. The process by which he grows from being
merely Robert's shadow, or his faithful dog, to be the self-
centred man, the Major Moray, himself fulfilling the one
novel-like part of the novel, is an admirable study in itself.
To us, however, we must confess this book has its chief
interest from its mode of dealing with social questions, but
for which we had found no place for it in these pages. In
every word of Mr. Macdonald's on this subject, we feel that
he abundantly recognises the truth of Mrs. Browning^a
teaching :—
* Even so
I hold jovL will nofc compass your poor ends
Of barley-feeding and material ease,
Without a poet's individualism
To work jour univerpal. It takes a soul
To move a body : it takes a high-souled man.
To move the masses. . .even to a cleaner stye :
It takes the ideal, to blow a hair's-breadth-off
The dust of the actual. — Ah ! your Fouriers foiled
Because not poets enough to understand
That life develops from within.'
Again : —
* 'Tis impossible
To get at men excepting through their souls,
However open their carnivorous jaws ;
And poets get directlier at the soul
Than any of your oeconomists : — for which
You must not overlook the poet's work
When scheming for the world's necess'ties.
The soul's the way. Not even Christ himself
Can save man else than as He holds man's soul ;
And therefore did He come into our flesh.'
And, so far, such a book as this is most invaluable, as show-
ing that the regeneration of the masses cannot be wrought out
by any rough and ready method of ^ improved dwellings for
the people,' or any other mere ' soap-and- water ' or scavenger's
cleansings, — but must be by the Christ-like method of per-
sonal touch and contact of the truly living soul, with the
downward-drawn but still restorable ^ human form divine.'
But we must let Mr. Macdonald here speak for himself: —
64 Robert Falconer.
* Thus did Falconer appoint a sorrow-made infidel to be the almoner of
Christian charity, knowine nell that the nature of the Son of Man was in him* and
that to get him to do as the Son of Man did, in ever so small a degree, was the
readiest means of bringing his higher nature to the birth.' — ^Vol. iii., p. 101.
Again r —
* What, then, is a man to do for the poor ? How is he to work with God ? '
I asked.
* lie must be a man among them — a man breathing the air of a higher life, and
therefore in all natural ways fulfilling his endless human relations to them.
Whiit^evcr jou do for them, let jour own being, that is, you in relation to them, be
the background, that so you may be a link between them and GK>d, or rather, I
should suy, between them and the knowledge of Gt)d.'
Again, Falconer asks a would-bo disciple :—
* Could you look upon loathsomeness .... without losing your belief
in the Patlicrhood of Uod, by losing your faith in the actual blood-relationahip
to yourself of these wretched beings ? Could you believe in the immortal eesenoe
)ii([(ion under all this garbage — God at the root of it all?' 'And then the tima
you must Hpend before you can lay hold upon them at all, that is, with the personal
rehition which alone is of any real influence.' *Not under any circumstances
could I coTiAcnt to make use of you before you had brought yourself into genuine
relations witli some of them first.'
But WO need not multiply extracts. The above will suf-
ficiently sliow the character of ^Robert Falconer' as a 'social
worker.' What strikes us most strangely is, that a man
«hould be pictured as so earnest in the work, and so plunged
in the seething whirlpool of London misery, as recognising
the value of law in the minor matter of dwellings for the poor,
and yet apparently, as failing to recognise the great cause of
all this misery, in the midst of which he worked, in the law-
provided liquor-traffic.
Passages, indeed, we have, which show that Mr. Mac-
doiiald's eyes have not been closed to the horrors of the
])ublic-house system. Thus : —
* Wliat better life could steam up from such a Phlcgethon I Look there, " Cream
of the Valley ! " As if the mocking serpent must, with sweet words of Paradise^
<h'Oi)en the horrors of the hellish compound, to which so many of our own brothers
fiiul bidtcrs, made in the image of God, fiy as to their only savour from the misery
of feelinff ulire.'
Moreover, we find all through the book — as how could we
otherwise ? — the whisky or the gin doing its dreadful work,
transforming into hideous perversions of humanity, men and
women made in the image of God. And yet, though seeing
the curse which the drink was working, we fiiid the man and
his friend taking their ^ glass of wine ' before issuing forth
to redeem their fellow-creatures from the woe wrought by the
Hpirit of the same liquor. Strange inconsistency I and the
stranger, because on some points the man does see so plainly.
The Licensing Laws and Proposals, 8fc. 65
Thus, for Hs father, for instance, lie feels the need of
absolute prohibition, and when he leaves him at Bodyfauld,
only does so on condition that Mr. Lammie^s house shall for
the time become ' prohibition territory/ Strange that in the
whole book there is no hint of the idea that what was good
for his father and Mr. Lammie^s household in Scotland,.might
prove equally beneficial for his many poor friends in London,
and their sober neighbours around them.
To us, as opponents of the drink traflSc, that picture of Mr.
Lammie, ^ ganging to mak the twa boatles o' whusky an^ the
midden weel acquant,' is as joyful a one as any in the book.
Oh I for a law to send all the ^ whisky' and its fraternity in
the same direction !
THE LICENSING LAWS AND PROPOSALS FOR
THEIR AMENDMENT.
THERE are few subjects so intricate as our licensing
system, if system it may be called. Enactment after
enactment has been made, establishing such a variety of
licences, that very few persons are acquainted with all the
conditions under which the privilege to sell intoxicating drinks
can be obtained, or with the laws which are in force for the
regulation of the trade. There is only one thing in connection
with the system on which all persons seem to be agreed,
namely, that the result of all the laws has been most unsatis-
factory. All classes of the community are loud in their
complaints, and proposals for amendment are being brought
forward on every hand. The magistrates all over the country
and the judges of the highest courts, the convocation of the
province of Canterbury and the conference of the Primitive
Methodists, the members of the United Kingdom Alliance
and of the Licensed Victuallers' Protection Societies, the
Association for the Promotion of Social Science and the
numerous associations scattered over all the land for the
avowed object of amending the licensing laws, all declare
unanimously that the present incongruous mass of inconsistent
enactments produces confusion and uncertainty in the admin-
istration of the law, and- promotes rather than diminishes
intemperance and its attendant evils. We do not intend in the
present article to enter upon a consideration of the amount of
the evil which does exist among us; we will assume, unhesita-
tingly, that our readers are well aware of its extent and deplore
Vol. 12.— jyb. 45. 1
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Proposals for their Amendment. 67
pounds ; for a tliird offence th^ fine is increased to a sum not
exceeding fifty pounds ; while, if the justices should in their dis-
cretion remit this charge to the general or quarter sessions to
be tried before a jury, the penalty, on the accused being found
guilty, is increased to one hundred pounds, and the licence
may be adjudged to be void, and its holder incapable of selling
excisable liquors by retail for three years from the time of
Buch adjudication. It is under this act that all the places
which retail spirits and wines for consumption on the premises
are licensed, except those kept by free vintners of London,
who do not require a licence for the sale of wines.
The action of this law was considered so unsatisfactory,
and so much intemperance prevailed in the country, that in
the year 1830 the Beerhouses' Act was passed, by which,
without having recourse to the justices, houses were licensed
by the Excise for the sale of beer only, it being hoped that
the introduction of faciHties for obtainiug a milder beverage
would lessen the consumption of spirits, and that the removal
of the licensing from the magistrates would diminish the
partisanship and jobbery with which those gentlemen were
charged. Before this act had been in force many months, the
evils arising from it were so great, that it was so far amended
that only houses of a certain rateable value are now permitted
to receive licences, and in places with a population under 5,000 a
certificate of six persons rated at £6 and upwards, as to the
character of the applicant, is required. The holders of beer-
house licences are under severer restrictions than licensed
victuallers as to hours of sale, but the penalties upon breaches
of the tenour of licences are the same as those imposed upon
the spirit dealers, with the exception that the penalty for a
first offence does not exceed £2, and that there is no clause
like that which enables the magistrates to send the consider-
ation of the third offence to quarter sessions, so that the fine is
not to exceed £50, thongh the licence may be declared void.
In addition to these two classes of houses for the sale of
intoxicating beverages, refreshment-houses may now be
licensed for the sale of wine to be consumed on the premises,
and grocers, &c., may obtain licences to sell for consumption
off the premises. The permission is granted by the Excise on
receipt of a magisterial certificate that certain formal con-
ditions have been complied with. There is no discretion
granted to the bench as in the case of applicants for a spirit
licence.
We have not, in our enumeration of the variety of licences
existing, alluded as yet to the wholesale licences, nor do we
intend to enter into their consideration except to point out
^68 ^^ Licensing Laws and
that^ under a lato act^ wholesale dealers may by a small
additional foe obtain a retail licence for sale for consamption
off the premises. This applies to the sale of beer as well as
^of spirits, and several cases are reported where ander cover
of this licence men have entered the trade who were unable
to comply with the requirements of the ordinary Beer Act.
To add to the confusion, occasional licences can under certain
circumstances bo obtained for the sale of excisable liqaors at
fairs, races, &c.
We have thus briefly enumerated the different laws regu-
lating the licensing of houses for the sale of all kinds of
intoxicating drinks, without entering into any discussion of
their relative merits. There is, however, one featare in the
magisterial licence which ought not to be overlooked^ as it
adds vciy materially to the chaos which our want of system
iuevitably produces. The members of the bench have un-
limited discretion as to their votes. They may grant or with-
hold a licence with or without reason. Political prejudice^
a desire of exercising personal patronage, or gratifying a
personal dislike, the highest philanthropy, or any other motive
may actuate them. They may think it right to consider the
requirements of the neighbourhood, or believe that such a
consideration is not to bo taken into account. They may
flood a town with spirit shops, as the Liverpool bench did
during several years, or may keep down the number or rednce
it, as they have done in Manchester. By their action they
may thus make the law have an altogether different operation
in two neighbouring towns ; they may change their plans
from year to year, and thus produce an uncertainty as to its
character, and greatly injure the respect in which it is desirable
that the law should ever be held. And, further, as the appli-
cant for a spirit licence has, if refused, the right of appeal to
the quarter sessions, it may happen, indeed it has frequently
happened, that a man who for very definite reasons has been
refused his licence by the local justices, obtains it from the
quart^jr sessions, the n\cmbers of which cannot be equally
good judges of the circumstances under which the application
w'as made.
When we remember, in addition, that even if the ordinaiy
brewstor sessions refuse a spirit licence, and the quarter
sessions confirm that refusal, a man can obtain a beerhouse
licence and a wine licence, it is evident that the one great
restriction upon the number of drinking-houses supposed to be
in the good character of the licencee, is altogether done away
with. It will, therefore, not be surprising that nearly eveiy
proposal for the amendment of the present law begins irim
Proposals for ilieir Amendments 69
a demand for a repeal of the Beer and Wine Licensing- Acts,
or, as it may more generally be stated, by a proposal that
there should be one authority only from whom all the various
kinds of licences should proceed, and that this authority should
have power to take the character of the applicants into con-
sideration with other circumstances.
The Beerhouse Licensing System Amendment Association,,
of which Mr. Akroyd, the member for Halifax, is Jbhe treasurer,
and the Rev. Wm. Stanyer, M.A., the hon. secretary, confines
itself to the moderate proposition of repealing the Beer Act,
and has at the present moment a bill before Parliament to-
that eflTect. There can be no doubt that if the Beer Act were
repealed so as to prevent for the future the granting q{ any
new licences, or at least to diminish the number, some slight
good would be obtained ; but so very small a portion of the?
evil would be touched, that we cannot even at the best look
upon this proposal with very great hopefulness of the ulti-
mate benefit to be derived from it. The bill brought in by
Mr. Selwyn-Ibbetson expressly provides for the renewal of all
existing licences granted prior to its passing. Allowing
the magistrates no power to take the wants or requirements of
the neighbourhood into their consideration of licences for con-
sumption ofi* the premises, can hardly be considered a measure
which will give many fewer licences than the present system,
except in cases where at present the Excise authorities wilfully
transgress the law by hcensing houses rated below the amount
required by the act. The good features of the proposal are
that less stringency is required in proof of various contraven-
tions of the conditions of licence than at present. The ad-
vantages are, however, so small in the proposed amendment,
that when the evils to be contended against are considered, w6
cannot help fearing that the passing of the bill will be a hind-
rance instead of a gain to an eflScient reform of the licensing
system. We shall have men demanding a fair trial, as it is
called, before any further change be made. Its advocates also
confirm a very erroneous impression current among to
many of the magistrates — that they have not as eflScient
a control over the conduct of beerhouses as over that of
public-houses licensed by the magistracy. The fact is that the
powers which the magistrates do possess are rarely exercised.
If the penalties which might be imposed were enforced to the
limit assigned to them by the law, we should see a diminution
in the number of beerhouses, and the remainder would be
conducted with greater desire to comply with the tenour
of the licence. It is a very rare thing indeed to see a fine
of £10 imposed upon a beerhouse-keeper for a second offence.
70 The Licensing Laws and
or a £50 penalty imposed for a third offence. The report of
the chief constable of Manchester records 668 cases of beer-
house-keepers convicted during the year ending September
29th, 1868, the total amount of fines imposed being £860. 10s.,
exclusive of costs, giving an average penalty of £1. 58. 9d. to
each case. There were, however, four cases of a fourth con-
viction, where the full penalty undoubtedly ought to have been
imposed. This would have made £200. There are twenty-two
cases of third convictions, which would have imposed penalties
to the amount of £1,100. It is unnecessary to refer to tho
110 cases of second offences in order to show that in Man-
chester, at least, tho magistrates have not made use of the
powers at present 'f^ithin their' reach to ensure the good
behaviour of the beerhouse -keepers ; and we have every reason
to believe that in this neglect Manchester is not worse than*
other towns. From the report of Lieutenant- General Cart-
wright, the inspector of the constabulary for the eastern and
midland counties for the year ending 29th September, 1868^
printed by order of the House of Commons, 1 9th Februaiy,
1869, we find that in those counties there were 8,656 beer-
houses; that, against these, 940 prosecutions for offences against
good order were conducted, resulting in 780 convictions ; and
yet only three licences were withdrawn. The tables do not
give the number of times the houses proceeded against had
offended, but we can hardly believe that only three were
guilty for a third time. In 34 boroughs inspected by this
gentleman there were 3,213 beerhouses, the number of
prosecutions was 620, the convictions were 544, but not one
single licence was withdrawn. Surely the law cannot have
been enforced with anything like strictness here. There
'is, however, one point which ought not to be over-
looked in considering this assertion of magisterial want of
control. The fact that on a third offence the licence is void,
would make the traders more careful if the bench were more
severe. A publican is of course liable to lose his spirit licence
on a third offence, but when he has forfeited it he can con-
tinue the sale of beer and wine under an Excise licence, but
the beerhouse-keeper would have to find some other means of
procuring a livelihood, if tho law were rigorously enforced
against him. We are told that the licensed victuaUers'
houses are so much more under magisterial control than the
beerhouses, yet we do not find that their authority is exercised
in a very formidable way. In the 17 counties reported
upon by General Cartwright there are 13,978 public-houses;
of these, 565 have been proceeded against, and 461 have been
convicted ; but only 37 have had their licences withdrawn.
Proposals for their Amendment. 71
In tlie 34 boroughs on which he reports, there are 4,595
public-houses ; against 303 proceedings have been taken, and
244 have been convicted, while only 6 have lost their licences.
These figures do not suggest any very great activity on the
part of the justices of the peace. The leniency of the bench
towards such offenders makes many persons very doubtful
whether the magistrates are the fittest authority in which to
confide the power of regulating licences.
A new society — ^ The National Ass^ation for Promoting
Amendment in the Laws relating to the Liquor TraflBc ' — ^has
lately been established under the presidency of the Arch-
bishop of York, which demands an immediate suspension o^
Excise licensing, and further asks for measures of restric-
tion to limit the facilities of intemperance. This scheme,
inasmuch as it immediately stops the multiplication of beer-
houses, is an improvement upon the older society to which we
have just referred, but it is impossible to say anything as to its
practical usefulness, in consequence of the further restrictive
measures which it desires to see enforced being as yet un-
declared.
A more definite scheme was introduced into the House of
Lords by the Earl of Lichfield. This measure, however well
intended, would, if carried, be rather a means of stricter
police supervision than an amendment of the licensing system.
The chief features of reform which it proposed were, a change
in the method of granting beer and wine licences, almost
identical with that proposed by Mr. Selwyn-Ibbetson's bill,
which would therefore continue the mischief of excessive
temptations instead of materially lessening the number, and
the introduction of a clause, granting to owners of property
the right of objecting, though not of vetoing, the issue of a
licence within a certain radius of their property. Very many
police regulations were, however, introduced into this bill
which would have raised a host of objections, and some of
them well founded ones. We do not see how, e,g,, the clause
which prohibited working men from .entering public-houses
during the ordinary hours of labour could be defended against
the charge of being class legislation. Lord Lichfield has,
however, joined the society presided over by the Archbishop
of York, and we therefore hope that, if he again introduces a
Licensing Amendment Bill, it will be a more thoroughgoing
scheme than the one which he last brought before the Peers.
A far more extensive proposal for reform is made by the
Licence Amendment League, founded last October in Bir-
mingham, which has its head-quarters, however, in Man-
chester, and has the advantage of possessing in Dr. Martin a
72 The Licensing Laws a/nd
most earnest and unwearied hon. secretary. We subjoin liis^
statement of the objects of the league, together with the
reform it suggests :
First. — The amendment of the Beer and Wine Licensing Acts.
a Abolition of Excise licensing.
b Magistrates to form the sole licensing authoritj.
e No appeal from the decision of the local magistrates.
Second. — Diminution of the present facilities for obtaining new licences,
a By increase of rating an4_rental qualifications.
b By giving to owners ancBbcupiers of adjacent property a local veto.
e By giving to town councils. &c., a general veto.
Third. — Diminution of the present provocatives to drunkenness,
a Sunday drinking. — Town councils, boards of commissioners, &a, to have the
power of closing public-houses, &c., during the whole of Sunday.
b Early and late drinking. — Town councils, &c., to be empowered to order the
closing of public-houses, &c., during the week, from 10 or 11p.m. till
7 a.m.
(Where there is not a local board elected by the ratepayers, these powers to
be exercised by the magistrates.)
Fourth. — To establish special checks to drunkenness,
a By prohibiting the opening of gin-palaces.
6 By prohibiting the opening of music or dancing saloons, except under magia-
terial licence.
- c By rendering it an offence to allow workmen to remain drinking daring
ordinary working hours.
d A husband to hare power to prohibit publicans, or others, from supplying
his wife with liquor.
e Magistrates to have power to prohibit publicans, or otherS; from Bopplying
notorious drunkards with liquor.
Furn. — To give greater protection to young persons,
a Publicans, or others, prohibited from supplying liquors to any young person
under eighteen years of age in any licensed house.
b No female under the age of twenty-one years to be employed as a waitress in
any licensed house.
c No person under twenty-one years of age to be allowed to enter any singing or
dancing saloon connected with a public-house, &c.
No doubt if some of the amendments proposed by this associa-
tion could be carried, thej would very materially improve our
present condition. We are, however, very far from convinced
that the magistrates are the best licensing authority which
could be found. The discretion entrusted to them has
frequently been used very indiscreetly, and the fact that they
are an irresponsible body of men makes the placing of so
great a power in their hands so absolutely as it would be under
these proposals, a matter deserving of very serious considera-
tion. The plan of increasing the rental and rating qualifica-
tions of houses applying for new licences is a very excellent
one, as it would limit the area in which the discretionary power
of the licensing authority could be exercised, and by making the
licensee invest more capital in his business, it would impose
greater caution on the conduct of the publican, as the deprivation
of his licence would be a proportionally greater loss. The locdl
' Proposals for their Amendment. 73
veto which is claimed for owners and occupiers of adjacent
property is distinctly a step in the direction of a thorough
remedy for the evils of the public-house system, and, as we
shall try to show further on, a very legitimate means to be
adopted. We are not quite so sure that giving to town
councils, &c., a general veto is equally effective. No
doubt this suggestion is derived in part from the Eight
Hon. John Bright's remark in the debate on the second
reading of the Permissive Bill in 1864. when he recommended
the transfer of the licensing power to the municipal councils,
and advocated entrusting the full veto power to the repre-
sentatives of the ratepayers as preferable to putting it to the
direct vote. Mr. Bright subsequently stated that he did not
urge the proposal with much confidence, as the case was full
of difficulties. We fear that municipal elections would be
exposed to additional dangers of corruption if the Town Councils
were to become the licensers of public-houses, or to have the
power of veto. As it is, there are so many questions of local
interest which have to be considered in the selection of men
for municipal duties, that the important question of licensing
might be overlooked by those interested in other subjects,
while the persons interested in the trade in drink would
always be alive to the importance of securing men favourable
to their traffic, so that the indirect control first suggested by
Mr. Bright, and adopted with modification by the Licence
Amendment League, would be very far short of being so
effective as its advocates would desire.
Several of the special checks suggested under the fourth and
fifth heads would no doubt be very beneficial, but others are
open to the objections which we urged against similar proposals
in Lord Lichfield^s act, and seem to raise unnecessary diffi-
culties in the way of any practical scheme of licence amendment.
Several of the suggestions contained in the programme of
this league were embodied in the bill which a few sessions
ago was introduced into the House of Commons by the
member for Liverpool. This act was the result of an experi-
ment which had been tried in that town for several years, by
the rather singular interpretation given to the 9 Geo. IV., c.
61, by some of the most active members of the local magis-
tracy. Believing that the intention of the Legislature had
not been to consult what are technically known as 'the
requirements of the neighbourhood,^ licences had been granted
to all applicants of good character who occupied houses suited
to the trade in liquors. The number of spirit shops had thus
been very greatly increased in Liverpool, so that while in
most other towns the beerhouses exceeded th« spirit shops in
74 The Licensing Laws and
number, the proportion was there reversed. We do not wish
to go into the often repeated tale of Liverpool drunkenness.
Suffice it to say that the ex{>eriment was so fruitful of evil
results, that although some of its defenders still maintain that
it was not tried quite long enough, more moderate counsels
prevailed at the brewster sessions, and the ordinary interpre-
tation of the act was adopted after a severe and prolonged
contest. The one fact, however, had become manifest to
all persons, that laws which permitted such evils to exist
as were seen in Liverpool, required amendment, and a
joint committee of the borough magistrates and town
council prepared a bill which was introduced, as we stated
above, by the local members, but, meeting with Grovem-
ment opposition, based on technical grounds, it was with-
drawn, on an implied understanding that the ministry would
take up and deal with the whole question as soon as possible.
The Liverpool Licensing Bill, which the Licensed Victuallers^
Guardian described as ^ seeking the hateful condition of
Liverpool all over the kingdom, and making unusual efforts
to swamp the respectable tradesmen, to ruin their property,
and lower them in the social scale, as [sic"] to convert the
whole country into a similar fearful Eblis of misery and crime/
would perhaps meet with more lenient criticism at the hands
of less interested critics. Its chief objects were to secure
uniformity in the issue of licences, combined with restrictions
that should by degrees lessen the number of houses and at
once diminish the hours during which the sale could be
carried on. The advantages were to be obtained by the
immediate repeal of the Excise licensing powers, and by
making the magistrates the sole licensing authority. The
varying manner of the exercise of their discretion was to be
put an end to by making it obligatory upon the bench to
grant licences whenever certain conditions were complied with
by the applicants. Li order that the number of houses might
not under such a rule be too much increased, a high rental
was demanded for every house seeking a licence, and a largely
increased fee was required, a certain amount of which was to
be paid to the authorities of the locality, in aid of police
expenses. A local veto was proposed to be given, by which
three-fourths of the inhabitants and owners of adjacent pro-
perty would be able to prevent the issue of new licences. A
small reduction in the licence fee was to be made to such
publicans as would consent to keep their houses closed on
Sundays, and various increased restrictions were to be imposed
upon the dealer in intoxicating drinks. One clause in the bill
was inserted to quieten the fears of the present holders of
Proposals for their Amendment. 75
licences, — they were to have fourteen years' grace before the
increased fees were to be demanded of them, but they were
immediately to come under the police regulations imposed by
the biU.
There can be no doubt that a system such as that sketched
in the Liverpool bill would in very many places be a vast
improvement upon the present chaos. The increased rating
or rental demanded would amply counteract the evil caused by
giving up the moral check wluch exists in the discretionary
power of the magistrates, and when the years of grace had
passed there would be a large diminution of the number of
houses, the small public-houses and beershops being then
unable to obtain new licences. Whether it would be worth
while to purchase the advantage, together with the lessened
hours of sale and the increased strictness of regulation by an
indemnity of fourteen years, is, however, very questionable ;
and the veto clause was so small a boon as to be valuable
chiefly as a concession of a principle which might ultimately
lead to greater things. The bill was, however, withdrawn,
and the promised Government bill is still only promised, the
deputations which have lately waited upon Mr. Gladstone and
the Home Secretary having only elicited the fact that no
measure will be introduced by them this session, although the
question is to be brought under the consideration of the
cabinet. It does appear, however, from remarks made by
Mr. Gladstone and by Mr. Bruce, that the provisions of the
Liverpool bill will not be overlooked in framing any measure
which will be brought forward with ministerial sanction.
The important question of licensing reform has not been
overlooked by the National Association for the Promotion of
Social Science. At every meeting which it has held since its
first congress at Birmingham, papers have been read upon
the subject, and resolutions have been frequently sent ilp to
the council for further deliberation. At the Belfast meeting
(1867) a special committee was appointed, which gave very
mature consideration to the whole question, and presented a
very thoughtful report to the council of the Association,
which after considerable debate was adopted by that body.
At the last congress in Birmingham (1868), the report was
considered in the section for the Suppression of Crime,
presided over by Sir Walter Crofton, and the council was
requested to press its consideration upon the attention of
Parliament. The suggestions of this committee, after asserting
that uniformity was greatly needed in the laws regulating the
sale of drink, which are in the opinion of the committee in a
very unsatisfactory condition, proceed as follows : —
70 The Licensing Laws and
* The manner in which bouses are eondncted where excisable liquors are sold
by retail would appear naturaUj to depoid on the character of the persona
entrusted with the lioeDces, the Taloe of the premises in which the sale takes plaoe,
the hours during which thej are open, and the number of such houses in a neigh-
bourhood.
* It i$ therefore desirable that ererj precaution should be taken to ascertain the
diaracter of all persons applring for licences, that the houses are of sufficient
Talue, and proper for the basineas» and that there is a reasonable presampUon
that, if licensed, the occupants maj, with industry and honest dealing, obtain a
liring.
* Your committee therefore recxHnmend that all applications for h'oences to sell
beer, spirits^ winee» cider, or pernr bj retail be in Uie first instance made to the
justices in pectj sesssions, after notice to the diief constable of ^e plaoe and the
other anthontiea now required b*- the 9 Geo. IV., c. 61, in respect of inns,
alehoQses* and TietuaUxng-houses ; such notice to state the class of trade for which
the applicant wishes to be licensed, t.r., hotel, inn, Tictualling-house, wine and
spirit store, refrwhrnent-rowns, or beerhouse ; and the discretion at present
exertijcd bj juadoes in granting licences, shall be extended to all licences to be
granted br them.
* That rbe Talne of hooses to which licences should in fature be granted (other-
wiw than bj renewal) for the sale of beer by retail to be drunk on the premises
be increaavd to doable the ralue now required by tlie I Wm. lY., c. 64.
* Xbat aU licensed houses be closed on Sundays, but to preyeot inoonr^iience to
the public, justices. wher« they see fit, may, in their licence, permit houses to be
opetied on Sundays fnom one o'clock (t three o'clock, and from eight o'clock to ten
o dock, p.m.
* That in the cases of innkeepers* licences, and where justices consider that the
bouse is bomd idt and reasonably required as an inn for the entertainment of
traTdlers, the (ustices maT accompany the grant of a licence with a dispensation
as to hours, as to the whole or part of the house and premises, provided that such
dispensation shall not apply to nor include any taproom, bar, or other plaoe of
public r««>rt for drinking.
* That all applications for lioencee or renewals, or objections thereto, shall be
heard in open court, and the witnesses, if necessary, may be examined on oath.
*■ That where application for a licence i* made for the first time, if two-thirds of
the owners or occupiers within fire handred yards object, the justices shall refuse
the lict>»ct\ nroridtxl that the clerk of the justices has reoeiyed from the persons so
ot^jecting at least ten days' notice specifying the objection.
* That the ri^ht of appeal from the decision of the petty sessions be extended to
nanions v^bjei*ting to licences being granted, and notice of appeal, to suspend the
Mpue v^ the licenot^ until after the decision of the sessions. The disqualification
of Jttsti\>v< under the l> Geo, IV., c. 61. s. 27, to be repealed.
*That, with the riew of prerenting undue influence in the granting of licences,
no clerk to justiocs shall be permitted to apply for, or support, or oppose, any
lAiUu'ation for a licence before the justices, under the penalty of forfeiture of his
o8c^ of clerk.
*That when a (vrsi^n has had a licence granted him for new premises, and has
Wtl^in three years sold them for a premium, increase of rent, or other yaluable
COiMUik'rativMi.he sludl be disqualified from applying for or obtaining a licence for
^ibM* ivneuii.'**:* in the same county, city, or place.
«'l1)at the justices* licence shall state the excise licence which the applicant shall
|» ^kntitksi to obtain fK^m the Inland Keren ue Office, according to the acts regu-
Mitf their issue, the hours during which the house may be kept open, and if on
&a»dM<k I^^hhI Friday*, and Christmas Day, and that in the penal portion of
Hl^m^^as at prwcnt use^i (9 Geo. IV., c 61, schedule C), there be added, after
^ ^mnU '^or any gaming whaterer therein, betting, raffling, or being ag9nt for
*^!nlil thr«e ivuyiotions within two years for any offence against the licensing
or (^ M^r ittinlfmwwjour, shall disqualify from grant of, or renewal of
ttn^iUflMtion tho conriction need not be for the same kind of offence
Proposals for their Amendment 77
''^at the landlord of licensed premises shall he entitled to decline to senre anj
person whom he maj consider to be the worse for- liquor, who is disorderly or
quarrelsome, or uses any obscene, disgusting, or profane language, and may call in
the aid of the police to remove such persons from the premises.'
These suggestions contain some very practical improvements.
Like all the proposals we have been considering, they start
with the idea of uniformity, the advantage of which all are
agreed upon ; they adopt from the Liverpool scheme the idea
of increasing the value of houses to be licensed for the sale of
beer to double that now required, but they do not on that
account require the magistrates to give up their discretion as
to the requirements of the neighbourhood. They make the
magistrates the only licensing authority, but do not abolish
all distinctions between licences, enabling the bench to issue
licences for the sale of beer only. They propose a veto, local
only, it is true, and applying only to new licences, but they
extend the radius in such a way as to make its operation more
likely to be effective. Acknowledging the evils of the present
appeal to quarter sessions being open only to the applicant
for a licence, they propose to extend the right of appeal to
persons objecting, and repeal the disqualification (9 Geo. IV.,
c. 61, s. 27), by which justices who have sat in brewster
sessions are prevented from acting at quarter sessions.
Licences granted under a measure based upon this report
would be for six days only ; but, to prevent inconvenience,
special licences might be granted when good reason was
shown for such a course. These would be very great im-
provements upon the present unsatisfactory laws, and we
sincerely hope that Government will not lose sight of these
thoughtful and well-considered practical suggestions; not
brought forward, be it remembered, by men whom society
regards as prejudiced in favour of some pet scheme, but by
those who for long years have devoted thought and practical
work to magisterial duty, and to the executive work of refor-
matory institutions, and to the general amendment of the
law.
One more scheme of amendment we would refer to with
especial interest. The convocation of the province of Canter-
bury has had a committee sitting for several months 'to consider
and report on the prevalence of intemperance, the evils which
result therefrom, and the remedies which may be applied.'
This committee consisted of men whose names will command
the respect of all classes of society, as will be seen from the
following list of its members : — The Deans of Canterbury,
Chichester, Lichfield, Westminster; the Archdeacons of
Coventry, Ely, Exeter, Leicester, Nottingham, Saloij \ Qi^as^ss^is,
78 The Licensing Laivs and
Argles, Cams, Gillett, Harvey, Oxenden, Wood, Dr. Fraser ;
Prebendaries Gibbs, Kemp. Archdeacon of Coventry chair-
man. It is not within the range of this article to discuss the
many important facts elicited by the inquiries of this com-
mittee, nor to mention the interesting reflections to which its
conclusions give rise. We are only concerned with that por-
tion of the report which aS'ects the amendment of the licensing
system, and there we find the following proposals : —
« 1. The repeal of the Beer Act of 1830, and the total suppression of beerhouses
throaghout the countrj.
' 2. The closing of public houses on the Lord's Daj, except for the acoommodation
oihond fide travellers.
*3. The earlier closing of public-houses on week-day evenings, in accordance
with the practice, now on the increase, of early closing in all other businesses.
More especially is this necessary on Saturday, when, it is well known, intem-
perance chiefly prevails.
* 4. A great reduction in the number of public-houses throughout the kingdom,
it being in evidence that the number already licensed far exceeos any real demand,
and that in proportion as facilities for drinking are reduced, intemperance, with
its manifold evils, is restrained.
* 5. Placing the whole licensing system under one authority, and administering
it on some uniform plan which would have for its object the abatement of existinf^
temptations to tippling and intemperate habits.
' G. The rigid enforcement of tne penalties now attached to drunkenness, both
on the actual offenders, and on licensed persons who allow drunkenness to occur
on their premises.
* 7. Passing an act to prevent the same person holding a music, dancing, or
billiard licence, in conjunction with a licence for the sale of intoxicating drinks.
* 8. Prohibiting the iLse of public-houses as committee rooms at elections, and
closing such houses on the days of nomination and election in every parliamentary
borotigl).
* 9. The appointment of a distinct class of police for the inspection of public-
houses, and frequent visitation of public-houses for the detection of adulterations,
to be followed, on conviction, by severe penalties.'
Many of these suggestions have been brought forward in some of
the schemes we have already reviewed; others wo have not seen
incorporated in any of them, although they have been discussed
time after time, some in the House of Commons and others
elsewhere. It is not so much the novelty of the reforms
advocated as their source which renders them so important.
When this report shall have been widely circulated, and
the evidence on which it is based shall have been before the
public, which will have had its attention directed to it by a
debate in Convocation, we have no doubt but that its influence
will be of the most telling nature. All persons interested in
the social regeneration of our country owe an unspeakable
debt of gratitude to the Archdeacon of Coventry, not only for
the manliness with which he introduced so practical a question
into an assembly not generally known as loving subjects so
unexciting as the removal of intemperance, but still more for
the indefatigable perseverance he has shown in pursuing the
Proposals for their Amendment. 79
investigations, and the skill only equalled by the energy he
has manifested in bringing the inquiries of the committee to
a successful issue. We trust he may be equally strengthened
by the Holy Spirit in carrying the adoption of the report by
convocation as he has been in the preparatory stages.
Although we have spent considerable time in discussing
schemes of licensing amendment,, we have not exhausted the
list which lies before us as we write, and if we refrain from
enumerating further plans, it is because in their main features
they have been adopted in one or other of the schemes already
named. We cannot, however, close our remarks upon this
important subject without referring to one branch of it, which
we deem most important. All the schemes that we have
noticed proceed more or less upon the supposition that licensed
houses for the sale of intoxicating drinks are needful, and
most of them try by all possible means to limit the number of
such houses, and their hours of opening, while placing the
power to license in the hands of only one authority. But
there are very many persons who regard the public-house
licensed by any one to sell drink of any kind, at any hours or
under any circumstances, as productive of evil to the general
well-being of society. Proceeding on the theory that in
proportion to the facilities for obtaining drink will be the
amount of drunkenness, they are unable to hope for sobriety
so long as any places are open for the sale of intoxicating
beverages, and they are therefore advocates of total prohibition.
Experience having taught us that laws which are not supported
by public opinion are generally inefiTective, the supporters of
the suppression of the liquor traffic in the kingdom do not
urge upon the Legislature to pass a measure like the Maine
law, which should by imperial enactment stop the sale of drink,
but have concentrated their efforts upon the agitation for
what is generally known as ^ The Permissive Prohibitory Bill,'
which if passed into a law (and it is now before the House
of Commons awaiting a second reading) would enable the
inhabitants of any district to prohibit the sale within the
limits of that district, whenever a majority of two- thirds should
so determine. We do not mention this measure as an
amendment of the licensing system, or as an alternative
to be adopted instead of any of the schemes we have already
been discussing. If any of them were adopted, it would
still be applicable, for it does not in any way provide for
licensing the sale ; on the contrary, it only provides for its
suppression. If the Legislature should think fit to give all
power into the hands of the magistrates, as the ifational
Association for the Promotion of Social Science '^T^^ci^^'e.^ ^
80 The Licensing Laws and
should only give them such a limited power as the Liverpool bill
and the measures of Mr. Selwyn-Ibbetson suggest, or should
adopt Mr. Bright^s scheme of making town councils the
licensing authority; or if (as has been proposed) a special
board should be elected for the purpose, the Permissive Bill
would be a valuable addition to such a changed condition of
things. At present the inhabitants of any place may appear in
the licensing court with memorials against the granting of
certificates, but they are only allowed to do so by the courtesy
of the bench, and although they in reality are the very persons
whose interests are most concerned in the proceedings of the
day, their memorials may be ignored by the magistrates, and
they have no appeal. Under the operation of the Permissive
Bill their voice would become potent so soon as a prepon-
derating majority were in favour of prohibition, but not before.
The experience of the United States of America teaches that the
Maine law is always effective for good whenever it is supported
by public opinion ; and so the Permissive Bill would never fail of
good, because it would never be enforced except under favour-
able circumstances. The sound of prohibition, no doubt, has
a very startling effect upon English ears, and a very natural
prejudice against it exists among us; yet, wherever in the
United Kingdom the experiment has been made, it has always
proved itself a great success. In Scotland, which has not the
most exalted reputation for sobriety, the General Assembly of
the Church had a committee in the year 1848 to inquire into
the state of intemperance. Their report was adopted and
approved by the Assembly in the year 1849. The conunittee
had nearly forty reports from parishes that had no places
within their bounds for the sale of liquor, and in these cases
the people of the parishes were declared free fiom intem-
perance. But not only are they free from intemperance ; we
find in the account given of them remarks like the following :
' The parish pays £3 yearly for the Jedburgh Union Poor-
house, but they have not a pauper in it.^ ^ Crime by
the population unknown.^ In a parish with 957 inhabi-
tants, ' the poor-rate is 5d. ; crime is unknown.' In the
case of Dolphinton, in Lanarkshire, ^ there is only one pauper
on the roll and no assessment for thc^poor.' Such are
the natural results of prohibition. In ^9^1and there is a
diMtrict in the county of Tyrone of 65^ square miles, in which
no public-house exists; here, too, poor rates have been
diminished and a police station has been removed, as being
no longer needed. No doubt there are many other parishes
in Ireland which can show the same happy results. In
England we can find more examples of prohibition than most
Proposals for their Aniei%dment, 81
people would expect. Passing over the well-known instances
of Saltaire, and the village and neighbourhood of Cambo, in
Northumberland, we find that in the report of the committee
of Convocation, referred to before in this article, there is this
pleasing paragraph : —
* Pew, it raaj be believed, are cognisant of the fact, — which has been elicited by .
the present inquiry, — that there are at this time within the province of Canterbury
upwards of one thousand parishes in which there is neither public-house nor beer-
shop ; and where, in consequence of the absence of these inducements to crime and
pauperism, according to the evidence before the committee, the intelligence,
morality, and comfort of the people are such as the friends of temperance would
have anticipated.'
Surely these facts should prevent anyone from declaring pro-
hibition to be impracticable amongst us. The Permissive Bill
is now and then attacked in the most paradoxical manner. It
is objected to because it is such a sweeping measure, and in
the same breath we are told it would not prohibit the sale of
beer outside the district which chose to enforce it, and dismal
pictures are drawn of people taking journeys to obtain the
means of indulgence. Surely we may rely upon the practical
good sense of our countrymen so far, that if they
see a neighbouring parish enjoying a happy immunity
from poor rates, and from criminal excesses of every
kind, they will soon adopt the simple remedy which
has had such beneficent results, and prohibition will be
extended over a gradually widening area. This gradual
extension would meet the objections which are often raised
as to the injury which a prohibitory enactment would inflict
upon the revenue, and the wrong it would do to the vested
interests of those engaged in the liquor traffic. Only by very
small steps would the diminution of the income which the*
State derives from the sale of drink advance, and while thia
source of taxation was lessened, the increased prosperity
caused by a diminution of local taxation, and the liberation of
capital for productive industry would soon reimburse the
treasury. Those engaged in the traffic would have plenty of
time given to them to draw out from their trade and to seek
for more useful employment of their capital. Prosperity
would advance pari passu with prohibition; we should
soon find our manufacturing industry barely sufficient to
supply the requirements that would be made upon it.
Unburthened of the crushing weight of pauperism and crime
which, hanging heavily upon us, impedes our progress, we
should make such advances as would cast into the shade even
the development of the last fifty years, and on a foundation of
morality we should build up a structure of iia\»\OTi^m^^^^f^'^
Vol 12.— No. 45. 1
82
StatisUcal Data for Social Reformers.
unrivalled in the long history of mankind. No scheme of
licensing amendment can prove ultimately satisfactory unless
it is accompanied by this simple plan of Sir Wilfrid Lawson's
Permissive Prohibitory Bill;
STATISTICAL DATA FOE SOCIAL EEFORMEBS.
I. Growth op the Liquob Traffic
BINCB 1830.
Ik 1823 a General Licensing Act was
passed with the hope on the part of its
promoters that it would form a new and
life-long settlemeflt of all the questions
connected with the licensii;g system.
That hope was quickly and grievously
dissipated. Two years more saw the
introduction and pa.ss.ng oi" the Beer
Bill, which upsetthctraditional licensing
routine of three centuries, so far as the
sale of malt liquors was concerned.
Henceforward any person might become
a beerseller without the consent of the
district magisterial bench. The pre-
dicted results were a purer article, greater
sobriety, and a death-blow dealt at the
brewers' monopoly : the actual results
were eren greater adulteration, wider
intemperance, and the aggrandisement
of the brewing interest beyond all pre-
cedent or imagination. What the effect
his been in the development of the
liquor traffic in England and Wales, is
a subject worthy of attention. Within
three months of the passing of the Beer
Bill, 24,342 licence,? were taken out.
In 1831 the number increased to 31,937;
in 1832 it sank to 30,917; in 1833 it rose
to 33,451 ; andintheyearending Septem-
ber 30th, 1867 (the last return), it stood
at 49,725, having increased to that point
from 47,670 in 1866. Before the Beer
Bill became law its passing was violently
deprecated by the licensed victuallers,
who feared that it would ruin them hj
taking from them that margin of their
profits which enabled them to krep
open, but they miscalculated the effects
01 competition in alcoholic drinks ; for
the spirit licences, which in 1828 were
48,435, became 48,904 in 1830 ; in 1831
tbev were 49,749; in 1832 they were
60,225 ; and in 1833 they had reached
50,828. The licensed victuallers in 1831
are given at 50,547 ; in 18.S2at 50,796 ;
and in 1833 at 52,611 ; the difference
between these figures and those as to
spirit licences, probably having regard
to licensed victuallers who confined
themselves to the sale of beer under a
magistrates* certificate ; but taking either
the spirit licences or licensed victuallers,
the only conclusion possible is, that the
beerhouse did not supersede the spirit-
shop, but that so far as its influence was
felt by the licensed victualling interest,
it was of a stimulating and fostering
character. The census was taken in
1831, and the population of England
ana Wales found to be 13,896,797 ; and
as the number of beer licences had in-
creased from 50,903 in 1829 to 83,332
in 1831, it is clear that while in 1829
there was one beer licence to 270 persons,
in 1831 there was one beer licence to 167
persons. Coming now down to 1867,
we find that in the year ending Septem-
ber 30th, the Hcensed victuallers were re-
turned at 68,395, and the beersellers at
49,725, a total of 118,120, showine an
increase of 16,248 licensed victuulera
since 1831, and of 17,788 beersellers, a
total increase of 34,036 liquor sellers of
these two classes. The population of
England and Wales in 1861 was
20,066,224, which mav be reckoned at ,
21,500,000 in 1867. 'This gives one
publican to 314 persons, and 180 persons
to every beer licence, including all such
licences held by publicans or beersellers.
The natural inference from these pre-
mises would bo that in proportion to
population the liouor retailers had
diminished since ISol. This inference,
though arithmetically correct, if confined
to publicans and beersellers, would be
egregioufely delusive if taken as evidence
that the influence of the drink trade ia
less marked now than in 1831, taking
population into account ; for there are
upwards of 2,000 refreshment houses
wuere wine is sold by retail for con-
sumption on the premises, and thousands
of wholesale ana retail sellers in wins
Statistical Data for Social Reformers.
88
and spirits for consumption off the
premises. The Wine Licences Bill of
Mr. Gladstone in 1860 gave a stimulus
to the trade in vinous compounds,
which, but for the spread and counter-
active operation of temperance prin-
ciples, would have been as fatal to public
flobrieij as the Beer Act of 1830. It
must always be remembered, likewise,
in instituting a comparison between the
liquor traffic at one period and another,
that a gross omission will be made if
regard is not had to the comparative
size and splendour of the places where
intoxicating liquors are sold ; and if this
yery important element is incorporated
into the present consideration, the moral
biilanco will have to be struck against
the drinking-houses of to-day. Beer-
shops may not have much siltered in
appearance, but gin palaces, public-
houses in general, and music and dancing
saloons, all testify but too plainly that
the descensus Aven.% has been made
brighter and broader with the increase of
national wealth and tlie development of
business enterprise in all the depart-
ments of rational commerce and ex-
change. The temptation-power and
seductiveness of public drinking customs
have thus been mightily and wonder-
fully augmented, to such a degree as
more than makes up for any propor-
tionate diminution in the number of
licences to sell intoxicating drinks.
II. Consumption and Cost of Iirroxi-
CATiKG Liquor in the Unitsd Kingdom
IN 1868.
The accounts of trade and naviga-
tion, which issue monthly from the
Board of Trade, usually appear about a
month after the date to which they
refer. Tliis delay has been much com-
plained of, and the complaints will bo
louder than ever, as the returns for the
month of last December, and for the
twelve months ending December, 1868,
were not published till the 1st of March.
Mr. Bright will be asked to look into
this acknowledged abuse of the public
patience, previous examples of which
nave been defended on the score of
nec3SJiarv precautions against errors of
entry affecting the reported eommerce
of the year. Wc can only attempt to
8ummari«e those particulars which re-
late to the manufacture, importation,
and consumption of alcoholic liquors in
1868. Taking, first of all, the article
of ardent spirits, the following table
will show the facts oonceming the
spirits manufactured in the United
Kingdom : —
Used as Bsyiragk only.
Gkils.
England 11,327,223
Scotland 4,907,701
Ireland 4,773,710
United Kingdom 21,003,634
The gross quantity used in 1867 wm
21,199,376 gallons, and in 1866 it was
22,217,390. Between 1867 and 1868
the difference is slight, and comparing
the three entries it appears that in Eng-
land the consumption in 1868 exceeded
that of 1867 by 3,570 gallons, Scotland
showing a decrease of 7 J,308, and Ire-
land of 118,944 gallons, being a nett
decrease of 190,742 gallons in the United
Kingdom. The quantity of spirits
charged with duty in 1868 was
22.04.\014 gallons, but of this 703,565
^llons were warehonsod on drawback
for exportation, &c., and 332,815 were
methylated spirits, leaving, as before
stated, 21,008,634 for consumption
within the United Kingdom.
The ardent spirits impr rted for use in
1868 were— rum, 3,950,636 gallons;
brandy, 3, 320,573 gallons ; and (not ena.
merated but computing by the duty)
1,133,310 gallons of Geneva and other
sorts; a total of 8,404,519 gallons: a
less quantity than in 1867, and about
the same as in 1866.
Adding together the British and im-
ported spirits, the aggregate for 1868
was 29,413,153 gallons. On the British
spirits the Government duty waf
/lO,.504,317, and on the imported
spirits £4,333.371, a total of £14,837,688.
The cost to the consumers, the people
of the United Kingdom, may be calcu-
lated on a basis of 20d. per gallon for
home spirits, and 22s. per gallon for
import^ spirits; this estimate covering
the cost of production, duty, and manu-
facturers' and retailers* profits, and the
result will then be —
Cost of British spirits ^21,C03,634
Cost of imported spirits ... 9,244,971
£30,253,605
With regard to malt, the quantities
retained for consumption in 1868 as
beer were, in England, 43,163,971
bushels; in Scotland, 2,167.189 bushels;
in Ireland, 2»787,87d buahela; a to^
84
Selections.
of 48,119,033 bushels. In 1867 the
corresponding total was 46,310,357
bushels, and in 1866 it was 50,217,828
bushels. Besides the quantity charged
duty for beer, there were made in 1868,
free of duty, for distillation, 4,549,813
bushels of malt, 243 bushels for feeding
cattle, and 1,6(38.737 bushels for ex-
portation as beer and in drawback — an
aggregate manufacture of malt to the
extent of 54,337,826 busliels. Looking
now at the quantity used for beer-
making, and calculating that two bushels
of malt produced one barrel of beer (the
Excise estimate), we have a manufac-
ture of 24,0n9,5l6 barrels of beer from
malt: and to this must be added the
beer produced from 351,742 cwts. of
sugar, f.«., 844,180, a great total of
24,903,696 barrels, which, retailed at
48s. per barrel (allowing for retailers*
multiplication of 36 gallons into 48
by dilution), cost the purchasers
i59.768,870.
The quantity of wine entered for con-
sumption in 1868 was 15,151,741 gal-
lons, compared with 13,752,428 in
1867, and 13,326,929 in 1866. The
customs' duties were £1,52 1 , 1 99 ; and
estimating the average retailers' price
to bare been 15s. a eallon, the pur-
chasers* outlay on wis amount of
wine was ;€11,363,805.
Now, causing these Tarious lines of
figures to conrerge, we hare, as the
outcome of these inquiries, the following
summarised facts presented to us : —
Consumed in 1868 —
Of ardent spirts. Sold for
29,413,153 gallons, ;£30,2J3,605
Of beer and ale,
24,903,696 barrels, 59,768,870
Of wine,
15,151,761 gallons, 11,363,805
An aggregate expenditure
of £101,a%,280
In this stupendous outlay, nothing
is allowed for the sums expended in
the purchase of cider, perry, and the
numerous sorts of British wines which
imitate the names and the worst pro-
perties of their foreign kindred. It the
accuracy of the iiffures as above pre-
sented is unimpeachable, it remains for
the patriot, the moralist, the philan-
thropist, and the Christian to ponder the
qu&stion, whether the British people
have done right or wrong in expending
upwards of a hundred millions sterling
in 1868 upon the drinks which issue
from the distillery, the brewery, and
the wine-vat.
SELECTIONS.
SCARLET FEVER AND ITS PREVENTION.
HsMBERs of the profession who may
happen to have read a letter by Mr.
Bradley, of Marlborough College, which
appeared in the Times of December 5th,
and in which he sets forth the con-
flicting responsibilities imposed on the
master by the case of boys at school
convalescent from scarlet fever, cannot
have failed to sympathise deeply with
that gentleman in the difficulties of his
position. On the one hand Mr. Bradley
shows, in forcible terms, that a long
detention in the sick-house is full of
evil, moral and physical, to the boy ;
<m the other he is reminded that to send
a scarlet fever convalescent away through
the country is not only to inflict an
UDWMmDiMe pehl on the community.
but to infringe the law. Happily,
medical science is in a position to fur-
nish an escape from tnis very painful
dilemma. If, in fact, the patient can
be so treated as to cease to be an active
source of infection by the time he is
able to travel, the difficulty is over.
Now, if my own experience can be
trusted, nothing is easier. Much more
indeed can be done to limit the spread
of tliis malignant fever than the pubb'c
are at all a ware of, or than the common
practioe of medical men generally would
seem to indicate.
There is good reason to believe that
not only the eruption on the skin, but
everything that is shed by the body of
the infected, is heavily laden with the
Beleetions.
85
germs or seeds b^ which (alone, no
doubt) the disease is propagated. The
discbarges of the throat and nose are, I
imagine, especially virulent. It is more
than suspected, on grounds on which I
need not hero insist, that those from the
bowel are scarcely less so. As the
kidney is known to be affected in a Tery
special, and often in a very severe way,
by tbe poison, this organ probably
furnishes another outlet for it. All
analogy tends to indicate, indeed, that
in this case the renal epithelium, which
is cast oflf so plentifully, performs the
same eliminative function as that which
is cast off" in still greater profusion by
the outer surface of the body. As the
bulk of all these excreta soon finds its
way to the cesspool or sewer, the large
part which sowers and cesspools are
known to play in the dissemination of
the fever, and which, quite lately even,
has been so strangely misinterpreted, is
easily understood. I could enlaree
much on this topic, if I had time to do
BO. It must suffice for the present to
say, once for all, that all that has been
shown to hold of typhoid fever in regard
to these relations — contamination of
drinking-water included — may be ap-
plied, with little qualification, to scarlet
fever also.
Taking these things as our data, the
one thing to aim at, therefore, in seeking
to prevent the spread of this fever, is to
annihilate the germs proceeding from
these various sources on their very issue
from the body, and before the patient
leaves the sick room. In accordance
with this view, I have long been in the
habit, in all cases which fall under my
own care, of enforcing the following
simple precautions.
1. The room is dismantled of all tht
needless woollen or other draperies
which might possibly serve to harbour
the poison.
2. A basin, charged with chloride or
carbolate of lime or some other con-
venient disinfectant, is kept constantly
on the bed, for the patient to spit into.
3. A large vessel, containing water
impreCTiated with chlorides or with
Condy s fluid, always stands in the
room, for the reception of all bed and
body linen immediately on its removal
from the person of the patient.
4. Pocket-handkerchiefs are pro-
scribed ; and small pieces of rag are
used instead, for wiping the mouth and
nose. Each piece, after being onoe
used, is immediately burnt.
5. As the hands of nurses of necessity
become frequently soiled by the specific
excreta, a good supply of towels, and
two basins, one containing water with
Condy's fluid or chlorides, and another
Elain soap and water, are always at
and, for the immediate removal of the
t&int
6. All glasses, cups, or other vessels,
used by or about the patient, are scru-
pulously cleaned before being used by
others.
7. The discharges from the bowel and
kidney are received on their very issue
from the body, into vessels charged with
disinfectants.
By these measures, the greater part
of the germs which are thrown off by
the internal surfaces are robbed of
their power to propasate the fever.
Those which are thrown off by
the skin require somewhat different
management If my information do
not mislead me, it is in dealing with
these that the practice of medical men
generally is most defective. There are,
no doubt, distinguished exceptions ; bat^
for the most part, either nothing is
done, or, what is done, is done imper-
fectly or too late. And yet to destroy
from the first, as far as possible, the
infectious power of what emanates from
the skin, is, for obvious reasons, the
most important object of all in the way
of prevention.
In the first place, as the skin is at
once the most extensive surface of the
body, and is, par excellence, the seat of
what, by a very just figure, is called the
eruption, the crop of new poison which
escapes by the skin probably far exceeds
in amount that which escapes by the
other surfaces. It is impossible to speak
in exact figures here. We cannot count
such things as we can count peas, or
beans, or grains of wheat But the case
of small-pox furnishes us with a standard
which cannot far mislead us. And, as
we know that, in a case of confluent
small-pox, enough new poison is thrown
off actually to inoculate with small-pox
myriads of others, so there is every
reason to believe that the skin-crop in a
severe case of scarlet fever is little, if at
all, lessproliflc.
In the next place, as the process of
desquamation, by which this crop . is
finally cast loose, is a very slow one-
lasting, for the most part, over many
86
Selections.
weeks — tbe infection from this source is
much more abiding than that from the
internal sources. But what renders it
still more so is the all-important fact
that the poison which is liberated hj the
skin is liberated in the dried state. It is
well known — and, indeed, the circum-
stance has been taken adrantage of in the
practice of inoculation bj cow-pox and
other poisons — that animal poisons,
when dried at a gentle heat, retain their
powers for quite indefinite periods of
time. But to be dried at a gentle heat —
a heat, lower, in fact, than that which
attended its own generation — is precisely
the ease of the scarlet-fever poison, as
oast off by the skin.
Another danger is created by
tbe minute and impalpable form in
which the particles armed with the
poison are set free. The »kin peels off
^ part, no doubt, in flakes of palpable
sire, but in still greater part under the
guise of dust, which floats in the air,
impalpable, like motes iu the sunbeam.
Each of these little atoms is, potentially,
the scarlet fever. While they adhere to
the body, they may be readily disarmed ;
but» once afloat, they are in great degree
beyond our power.
It is to these various circumstances —
to the countless profusion of the new
seed, if I may so speak, which is gene-
rated and sown braadcast by every fresh
case — to the length of time during
which it hangs about tlie sick, capable
every moment of being transferred, with
all its deadly power, to thing or person —
to the impalpable minuteness of the
organic particles in which this seed is
imbedded — and, lastly, to the long re-
tention of their properties, in virtue of
being in the dried state — that we must
look mainly for the true explanation of
the well-known subtleness and tenacity
of this particular infection. To the
many striking ill ustrations of the subtlety
and tenacity already on record, I could,
if there were need, add many of my own,
quite as striking, and free from all
ambiguity ; but it is a waste of time and
space to burden the page with what is
already conceded, ana with what to most
men must be sufficiently familiar.
These same circumstances are the
source of the peculiar embarrassment
and perplexity which, in scarlet fever,
hangs over the disposal of the con-
valescent, and the period, so much
debated, and at present confessedly
ondetermined, at which he may be
safely restored to sooiety. They are
the source of the dilemma, for instance,
to which Mr. Bradley gives such pain-
ful expression in the letter referred to
at the outset of this paper, a dilemma
with which, in private life, medical men
have so often to contend, but which, in
public schools, if we may judge from
the columns of the Times, is continuallj
recurring.
Many readers, I dare say, remember
the pathetic appeal to the profession
whicn appeared in that journal some
ten or twelve months ago, from the pen
of a distracted father, urgent to know
within what time, and by the use of
what measures, his son, who, being con-
valescent from scarlet fever, was pining
in the dreary seclusion of the sick-house
of one of our great public schools,
might be let out of captivity, and
restored to his family. Several letters
in reply — one or two especially bearine
the signature of * A Fellow of the Boyu
College of Physicians,' — offered some
more or less sensible suggestions; but
all, if my memory do not mislead me,
united in the humiliating confession,
that no definite time could be named al
which persons who had gone through
this infection could safely mix with
others.
According to my own experience,
these difHculties and perplexities may
be entirely averted by the employment
of the simplest precautions. To be
successful, these precautions must be
put in force early, and must be
thoroughly carried out. The first thing
to aim at is, to prevent the minute
particles, which are the carriers of the
poison, from taking wing until they can
be disinfected in situ. This, I find, can
be perfectly effected by simply anointing
the surface of the boay, scalp included,
twice a dav with olive oil. The oil I use
is, generally, slightly impregnated with
camphor. As far as the main object
is concerned, the addition is, perhaps,
unimportant; but it is agreeable to ue
patient, and probably has soma part in
the relief, which almost always follows
the inunction, from the troublesome
itching which is a well-known incident
of some stages of the disorder. Current
'views would, perhaps, indicate carbolic
acid as a fitter adjunct; but having
found the camphorated oil to answer
perfectly, I have thought it the part of
wisdom to make no change. I may add
that the process, so far from being
Selections.
87
trying, is very soothing to the sick;
and, if it exert anj influence at all on
the evolution of the disorder, this in-
fluence api^eara to be beneficial rather
than otlierwiso. The precise period at
which it hhould be began varies some-
what, no doubf, in different cases. As
early as the fourth day of eruption, a
white eflloresccnce may often be ob-
aerved on the skin of the neck and
arms, which marks the first liberation of
the new death-giving brood. This
efflorescence should be mado the
signal for the first employment of the
oil. From this time, the oiling ia con-
tinued until the patient is well enough
to take a warm bath, in which the whole
person — scalp again included — is well
scrubbed, disinfecting soap being abun-
dantly used during the process. These
baths are repeated every other day until
four have been taken, when, as far as
the skin is concerned, the disinfection
may be regarded as complete. If the
health be quite recovered — if, in par-
ticular, there be no disease of kidney,
and no dischnrge from throat or
nostril — the patient (equipped, of course,
in a new or perfectly untainted suit)
may generally be restored without risk
to his family. A week or ten days
additional quarantine is, however, sel-
dom objected to ; and is, on the whole,
perhaps more prudent.
Many medical men are in the habit
of fumigating the sick-room either con-
stantly or several times a day, with
chlorine or sulphurous acid, pending
the whole course of the fever. There
can be no objection to this measure ;
but I do not myself attach much im-
portance to it. Experience of the largest
and most decisive kind has shown that
chlorine — and I believe the observation
applies equally to the other chemical
agent — in the degree of atmospheric
impregnation respirable by man, baa no
appreciable influence in preventing the
spread of infectious disorders.
To complete the preventive code,
immediately after the illness is over —
whether ending in death or recovery —
the dresses worn by the nurse (which,
where possible, should be of linen, or
some smooth thing) are washed or
destroyed, and the tied and room that
have been occupied by the sick are
thoroughly disinfected. With these
measures, when well done, the taint is
finally extinguished.
The success of this method, in my
own hands, has been very remarkable.
Por a period of nearly twenty years,
during which I have employed it in a
very wide field, I have never known the
disease spread in a single instance
beyond the sick-room, and in very few
instances within it. Time after time I
have treated this fever in houses,
crowded from attic to basement, with
children and others, who have, nerer-
theless, escaped infection.* The two
elements in tne method are, separation
on the one band, and disinfection on
the other. It is almost needless to
add, that neither can be secured in the
degree here indicated in the houses of
the very poor. There are, unhappily,
large masses so utterly destitute of
every needful thing, that it would be
little short of mockery to speak of such
measures as those I have just described
in connection with them. But the con-
ditions which are denied to the houses
of the needy, should always be at hand
in the fever hospital ; which — small, if
you like, but a model of its kind —
would, if modem societies knew what
belongs to their safety, never be far to
seek in any crowded communities. In
these matters, beyond all others, the
social organisation should be in its per-
fection, strictly correlative with that of
scientific knowledge. If science can
point out practicable conditions by
which such great evils may be averted,
society is, in the highest degree, not
only unwise, but blameworthy, if these
conditions are not realised. It is high
time, at any rate, that some more con-
certed action shoula be taken to abate
the ravages of this terrible scourge.
Eyery year scarlet fever slays from
twenty to twenty-two thousand persona
in England alone. There are few fami-
lies that have not at one time or another
felt its deadly power ; and it is now and
then the cause of tragedies which, al-
though occurring only in single families,
* One word shoald be said for tlie benefit
of thosf!) who, having yet escaped infcetioD,
are living in an infected neigbbourtaood.
For persons so sitaated, it is we'l to know
that the frequent fluodiog of their houie-
driina with disiiifectanta it a great tafeguard.
Id Bristol, the need of this is superseded by
the action of my friend. Mr. Divies, who very
Wisely keeps the sewers of all districts
iofected with epidemio disease in a staie of
permanent disinfection. But it is nr>t every
town that can boast of such a aealous and
enlightened health officer. In all places
where Bcarlet fcver is prevalent, especial
care should be al-o taken to have the drinking
water perfectly pure.
88
Selections.
are of such agonising bitterness as to
move the heart of the nation. If the
measures here suggested were systemati-
cally and energetically put in force
against this great enemy of man, the
Annual number of the slain would soon
fall from twenty thousand to a low
figure.
P.S. — I need scarcely say that the
principles laid down in the preceding
paper are equally applicable, as I have
elsewhere abundantly shown, to all con-
^tagious fevers. I have for many years
applied with great soocefls the method
here recommended for scarlet ferer, with
the modification in detail required bj
each particular case, to the prerention
of small-pox, measles, typhus, &o. In
typhus the area and activity of infection
may be greatly limited by disinfecting
all internal discharges, and by oiling
and disinfecting the skin in the same
manner as in scarlet fever. — W, Budd,
M.D.y Honor or If and Consulting Pky^
sician to the Bristol Bot/al Infirmary,
THE SANITABY MISSION WOMAN.
Toi Sanitary Mission Woman is a
recently appointed officer of the Man-
chester Ladies' Sanitary Association
Society, whose duty it has been to visit
the houses of the poor, chiefly in the
courts and alleys on Deansgate, and in
the Collyhurst district. Everywhere
the visits of the mission woman have
been well received, and she has been
continually requested to come again,
with an eagerness which proves the
sympathy and kindliness with which
sue has entered upon her work. White-
wash pails and brushes are placed at
her disposal to lend about in the houses
where such cleansing is required, and
also chloride of lime for the purification
of the air in the rooms of those who
are suffering from fever. She has not
only given instruction in common sani-
tary rules to those whom she has found
ignorant of or neglecting them, but she
will herself wash and make comfortable
a sick person whom she may find neg-
lected and dirty, thus encouraging those
who are around to follow her example,
by showing them how they may do
what is needful in the best way.
The following extracts from the diary of
themission woman will still further illus-
trate the nature of her work : — ' No. 19,
C. Road : Much need of sanitary work
here. The windows cannot be opened,
which prevents sufficient ventilation. —
Mrs. M., 21, C. Road: Fever in
the house here. — No. 33 : Two rooms
only in this house, seven persons oc-
cupy it. Visited other portions of this
road and found fever very frequent, the
houses not sufficiently ventilated, and
the river, too, aids in causing bad
smells. — Mrs. M, 20, S. Street: Avery
dirty house.— Mrs. S.,* 21, L Street :
Found all the family in bed. I roused
them up, and found the house in fear-
ful disorder.— Mrs. M., 16, S. Street:
Found the children very dirty. Bc-
mained until they had a gooa wash.
Expressed a wish that more care might
be given to cleanliness every way. —
Mrs. W.,2l5, J. Place: A large family
lost in dirt and rags. Remained until
the children were washed. — Mrs. W., 1,
S. Road : Found a family here requir-
ing attention and kind words. — Mrs*
F., 103, C. Road: Daughter very ill
indeed. Spent a long time reading and
conversing. — Visited J. Place, and again
impressed upon each the importance of
practising sobriety, and observing order
and cleanliness m their persons and
homes. — Proceeded to J. Place, and had
a conversation with each female on do-
mestic duties. — S., 21,1. Street : A small
house occupied by two families, one
consisting of nine persons. Very re-
cently five persons m this house bad
fever. The house is abominably filthy;
notwithstanding all I have said, and mil
they have sufiered, no efibrt is made to
improve it. I left chloride of lime. —
Mrs. F., 103, C. Road : Remained here
some time. One of the daughters was
dying, and the mother requested I
would not go till all was over. — Mrs. J.,
F. Street: Remained here till all the
children were washed, and saw other
tilings done. Called again and had a
conversation with the children, who
have a sick mother, quite unable to
attend to her domestic duties, and too
poor to have anyone in the house to
look after tiie family. — M., 3 >, S.
Street: This family of motherless
Selections.
89
children occupj much of my time;
and I am pleased to say my labours are
not quite in vain. — Mrs. S., 10, S.
Street : The mother goes out to work ;
the children are left to take care of
themselves ; the consequence is, two of
the children have received injuries
which will render them cripples during
their lives.— Mrs. M., 21, S. Street:
This woman is making an effort to dis-
charge her duties as a mother, and
seems much encouraged by my visits. —
Mrs. G., C. Boad : This poor, wretched
woman is 80 years of age ; has an income
sufficient to keep her in comfort, and
yet she is so degraded with intem-
perance that all who know her are
afraid to approach her. She appears
a walking mass of dirt. I despair of
being able to do much if any good at
h«r advanced years. The more I see
of the people amongst whom I labour,
th« more I am convinced that so long
as the opportunity to obtain drink
exists, every effort to raise them to a
better life will be always fruitless. — Mrs.
W., 13, B. Street : I am ^lad to state this
family improve in their habits every
time I call. When my visits com-
menced they were almost lost in dirt.
Now I find the children are washed
daily, and the house kept much cleaner.
— S., 16, S. Street : Three children at
home, motherless. I give the eldest
girl instruction in domestic duties,
and find she does all in her power
to profit by the instruction given. —
Mrs. L., 19, C. Boad: A conversa-
tion; and left the brush, and money
for lime. Called again to ascertain
if whitewashing had begun, as it is
much needed. The husband had mixed
the lime, and commenced operations on
the coal place. I explained to him the
bedrooms ought to be cleaned first, and
afterwards the places below. Have
been kindly received everywhere. — Mrs.
F., 103, — Boad: Left chloride of
lime, with directions for its use.—
Mrs.K., 105,— Boad: Left as above.—
M., 30, J. Place: A very dirty house;
unfit for a residence. I requested the
woman would clean at once. — Mrs. J.,
1, F. Street: Spent a long time here.
The mother very ill indeed, and no one
to take care of her but one of the
children.— W., 1, S. Boad : Very di^.
A large family, and no mother. — W.,
2, S. Street: This house very dirty.—
MrP. S., 21, J. Street: No improvement
in the house.— Mrs. G., 3, H. Street :
Very poor; but the house exceedingly
clean and neat. Have called to-day
upon several families in S. Street who
have recently come. Was most kindly
received, and requested to repeat my
visit.— W., 1, S. Boad: These poor
children are without a mother, and I
regret to say that they, as well as the
house, are in a most deplorable con-
dition.'
The above extracts convey some faint
idea of the work in which the sanitaij
mission woman is now engaged; and
the committee desire, in conclusion, to
commend this Association afresh to the
sympathy of the benevolent. Should a
generous public confide larger means to
their care, they will thankfully send
out another sanitary mission woman
labourer into the field, if, as they trust
they may, find another equally fitted
for this labour of self-denying love. —
Report of the Ladie^ 8anitary Associa-
tion.
PABOCHIAL MISSION WOMEN.
I WAS struck some time back by an
article in the Times upon the subject of
almsgiving. The article was occasioned
by a letter of Miss Stanley, which
brought before the public one of her
many works of charity, and asked for
assistance in laying up a stock of coals
at moderate prices, to be retailed to the
poor in the season when both the neces-
sity for the supply and the price would bo
increased. Your commentary suggested
that it might be better to instruct the
poor in exercising provident forethought
lor themselves. Now, I can so confi-
dently speak of tlie organisation of the
above-named'Association as promoting
very efficiently the prudential education
of the poor, that I venture, on an expe-
rience of its working for nine years, to
ask your powerful aid in making it
more generally known.
There is no lack of Christian sym-
pathy in our people. The drowning or
explosion of a mine, a dearth of food or
90
Selections.
of cotton supply, is suiBoient at once to
open their hearts and their coffers.
Indeed, this sympatliy requires direction
and regulation far more than any
stimulus. Indi^riminate alms^givin^
might be easily shown to have occasioned
more mischief than lavish expenditure,
for the first shilling given to a man who
prefers begging for it to earning it, is
the firpt step towards his ruin, while
expenditure, however foolish on the
part of the spender, commonly becomes
a source of support to the honest and
industrious workman.
Now the wholo^ecbeme of the Paro-
chial Mission Women's Association is
directed towards elevating the lowesjt
poor by their own energy, or, still
better, saving the all but lowest from
sinking yet lower. They are taught
how they may make the most of all
their means, however slender they may
be. Cleanliness in house and person,
temperance, intelligent nursing in sick-
ness, provident expeaditure, are within
tlie reach of all ; provident saving within
that of many who have but tlie scantiest
resources, or none beyond their labour.
Doubtless model lodging-houses, penny
banks, provident clubs, are excellent
institutions in themselves, but they are
only facilities. The desire to use them
must be generated by living agency.
This agency is supplied by the society
whose claims I advocate.
Its plan is very simple. A small
number of ladies act as maiiagers. They
have the benefit of advico in mat-
ters of finance, or in any difficulty,
of gentlemen forming a committee of
reference. A ge?itleraan desirous of
availinf himself of the agency applies
to the lady managers, and if the funds
Srmit, his request is at once considered,
e himself selects a mission woman,
and a lady superintendent, from a higher
class, for his parish, who must be ap-
proved by the managers, and the organi-
sation is then complete. A room must
be provided for the purposes after-
mentioned.
The mission woman is selected from
the claes among whom she is to work.
Her payment is regulated as far as
possible by her previousweekly earnings,
and does not much exr»ced them. Her
duty is to visit, under the clergyman's
directions, all who will welcome her,
and these soon become tho large
majority. She gives no alms, but offers
instruction and afford^} facililles by
which they may help themselves. She
enjoins, and if needs be will show them
how, to scrub and clean their rooms,
and what to do in case of sickness, and
induces them to deposit with her any
moLey they may be able to lay by for
the purcha^te of necessaries or comforts.
She informs them of, and invites tliem
to attend, weekly meetings held by the
lady superintendent, which lady, having
received a loan in advance from the
general fund, has a supply of blanketb*
bedding, &c., with Bibles and Prayer-
books, which she keeps at the mission-
room ; and there sucn women as may
be able meet her and the mission woman
for a couple of hours. Materials are
there examined and selected, and may
be worked upon (many have at these
meetings first learned to use a needle
and thread), while the superintendent
reads aloud for a part of the time, and
the clergyman usually opens or closes
the meeting with Scripture reading and
prayer. No article, made or unmade,
IS allowed to be taken from the room
until the whole of the coat price has
been paid.
Now the advantages of this scheme
are: —
1. The parish is a definite area to be
worked, and instead of broad-cast^ hap-
hazard schemes of benevolence, an aim
is given, and tho effect of the work can
be and is watched. Keturns are re-
quired weekly by the managers from the
lady superintendents of the number of
visits made by the mission woman, the
amount of money received, and other
work done. Each manager receives
these returns from specified district^
and visits the meeting without giving
any previous notice. If the mission be
not satisfactorily worked, it is either
abandoned or suspended. A mission
may be closed for any cause by the
managers, on the one hand, or the
clergyman, on the other, at a month's
notice.
2. The mission woman and lad^
superintendent have their definite civi-
lising lay work, and the clergyman is
assisted by their co-operation, not
thwarted by controversial zeal.
y. The mission women are of the
same class as those they instruct. A
clergyman or lady superintendent might
make many visits without producing
the effect de.-irod. They and the poor
do not often understand each other
when iti comes to be a question of inter-
Notices of Boohs.
91
ference with domestic habite and ar-
rangements.
4. The test of this effective teaching
is furnished by the returns. In the jear
1867 oTer i*7,000 (a portion of it in
farthings) was collected from the poor
of 130 mission districts. The society
commenced its work with six missions,
and thedeposi ts i ti the first year amounted
to £S5. A steady increase to the num-
bers of 18(j7 is a very notewortliy fact.
The testimony to the value of the
institution is uniform from the clergy
who have experienced its effects. The
Archbishop of Canterbury while Bishop
of London gave it his warmest sanction,
and from the fund which bears his name
annual grants are made towards its
support. No distinction is made with
reference to any supposed theological
Tiews of incumbents who wish for the
assistance of a mission woman. The
average cost of each mission is £35 a year.
The clergyman is expected to guarantee
a certain portion of this sum, according
to the circumstances of the case. The
onlj items of expenditure are the
woman's salary and occasionally the
rent of a central room, the advance
loans being repaid as the capital of each
district increases. The total cost of
management in 1867 was only £180.
This cost is mainly incurred by the
employment of one clerk and the hire
of an office, at 15, Cock spur-street.
Scarcely a charity can bo named where
so much is achieved by so small* an
expenditure.
Those who know with what despair
many a clergyman or district visitor
enters a sick room, the window of which
is closed, the floor of which is foul with
dirt, while the patient posse.sses neither
bed, bedstead, chair, nor table, perhaps
no blanket or coverlid, can alone
appreciate the transformation that can
be effected by a woman in the same
class of life as the sufferer, who teaches
cleanliness, order, industry, and fore-
sight, through the medium of Christian
kindness and Christian example.
The Rev. T. J. Rowsell, the well-
known incumbent of St. Margaret's,
Lothburj. thus speaks of what he him-
self witnessed ot the working of the
agency in question : —
* For 25 years I have been actively
engaged in dutira in the East of London.
I have learnt to feel the want of this
agency, and I have now witnessed its
usefulness. It is wonderfully adapted
to meet the most urgent wants of the
poor. . . . There is no room in the
lowest part of the poorest house into
which the mission women do not readily
find their way. Every clergyman I
talked with, of whatsoever shade of
theological opinion he might be, was
emphatic about the good done by
them.'
There are at this time urgent appli-
cations pending from parishes in the
poorest parts of London and South wark,
none of which can be accepted unless
further aid be given to the general
fund. — Lord Haiherleyy in the Times,
NOTICES OP BOOKS.
Our Unemployed : An Attempt to Point
Out some of the Best Means of
Providing Occupation for Distressed
Labourers; with Suggestions on a
National System of Labour Begistra-
tion ; and Other Matters Affecting the
Well-being of (he Poor. By Alsager
Hay Hill, LL.B., of the Inner
Temple, Barrister-at-Law, and an
Ex-Almoner of the Society for the
Relief of Distress in Eastern London.
Pp. 49. London : W. Ridgway,
159, Piccadilly ; and at the Office of
the National Association for the Pro-
motion of Social Science, 1, Adam-
street, Adelphi, W C.
Tuis paper was originally written in
response to an offer of a prize by Mr.
R. R. Lloyd, of Birmingham, for the
best essay on ' A Feasible Plan for the
Temporary Employment of Operatives
and Workmen in Casual Distress.'
Although its author did not win the
prize, which went to Mr. Arthur R.
Arnold, it was highly commended by
the council of the Social Science Asso-
ciation, who were the appointed judges.
After further reading and meditation,
Mr. Hill amplified bis paper, and now
publishes it in pamphlet form, as he
hopes, for the public benefit. In his
summing-up, his proposals are thus
recapitulated : —
* In the first place, then, I recommeiid
92
Notices of Books.
the construotion of some machinery bj
which the thorough classifioation and
recognition of the yarious sections of
our poorer classes may be established,
before attempting to relieve or employ
them. And for this purpose, I IninK
that a system of loca\ district, and, if
possible, national registration of labour
should be instituted. Such a system of
registration for the present I propose
to be grafted on, as far as possible, to
the existing framework of the Post-
oflice service, especially as developed in
the Savings Bank and Insurance depart-
ments of that office. Side by side with
this system of registration for the really
industrious but unemployed class, I
would recommend a most careful classi-
fication on the nart of the Poor Law
authorities of all persons coming under
their operations. By this means the
residuum of the industrious unemployed,
■oparated from the stratum of pure pau-
perism, might be placed under the best
conditions for returning as soon as
possible to labour and re-assuming their
proper position amongst the industrial
ranis oi the community, whiltit the idle
and incompetent would be left to the
necessarily sterner discipline of an
efDciont Poor Law, by which the greatest
possible labour obtainable from them
would be demanded for the least possible
wage, consistent with the health of the
pauper. Having by these means, there-
fore, separated the really deserving and
unemployed poor from the idle and
incompetent, I recommend the distribu-
tion and employment of the better class
of the former on all public works of
utility, created by any existing or future
compulsory clauses in Acts of Parlia-
ment. The indication and promotion of
such works would be at first entrusted
to Local Improvement Commit fees^ com-
posed as far as possible of representative
and public spirited men, acting in the
first entrance in a volunteer capacity,
but hereafter if possible to be clothed
with such ofTleial authority as the State
may think fit to extend to them. I have
further suggested that the execution of
those public works with other subsidiary
measures, will, if properly encouraged
and energetically pursued, afford suf-
ficient occupation for our unemployed
poor, until such times as the more
permanent and general n^modies wliich
the pro^frrsM of society brings with it,
hove »e(]uire(l the strength to supercede
luoh lomporary palliatives. Meanwhile,
and as a few subsidiary methods of
meeting the acknowledged wants of
the unemployed, I have suggested (Ist)
the construction of casual wards on a
uniform plan, and accommodated to the
wants of the various districts, through-
out the length and breadth of the land,
and this suggestion, it is contended, is
based on the best principles of economy
and national policy, both for the sup-
pression of crime and the maintenance
of industry. The national monument
to Lord Brougham also finds a place in
this part of my scheme, and that liberal
public subscriptions for such a purpose
would be forthcoming this winter in
place of our usual indiscriminate alms-
giving to the unemployed there is little
reason for doubt. (2nd.) The adoption
and development of the dry-earth system
of sewerage in town and country, imord-
ing as it would employment to thoa-
sands, and multiplying the fertilising
resources of the country at large. And
(3rd) I have recommended the establish-
ment primarily, in the metropolis and
elsewhere, if circumstances demand
it, of a properly registered staff
of crossing-sweepers and district com-
missionaires, the latter class to be
recruited as far as possible from the
better educated but invalided section of
the unemployed poor. I may add the
more perfect registration of employment
of scavengers under this head. The aboye
are the main recommendations which
this paper contains, others of a collateral
description might have been added, bat
will readily suggest themselves to any
persons who may be disposed to follow
me generally in the propositions I haye
made. Such recommendations are, I
am well aware, but a very slender con-
tribution towards the study of a great
and most urgent question. To be of any
true service they must be supplemented
by the thoughts, sympathies, and willing
action of those in whose hands the reu
reformation of society lies. From a new
Parliament and the early energies of
young legislators muck may be expected
in the direction of those improvements
which I have now but faintly indicated.
National education, protected co-opera-
tion amongst working men, and a pro-
perly organised system of emigration
are among the first boons we may expect
at their hands ; but it is in the steady
development of sober and industrious
habits amongst the operative classes
themsslves, and in the true patriotism
Notices of Books.
93
which urges every man to do his best
for the common weal that the ultimate
triumph must be looked for. The closer
union of all classes, the diminution of
crime, the repression cf drunkeni.ess,
and a thousand other lesser victories
have to be won before the campaign is
accomplished.*
We thought the proposal for a
national registration of labour so good
that we suggested it ourselves in a
former number of Afeliora. Its engraft-
ment on the Post-office service is Mr.
Hill's proposition, and deserves con-
sideration. On the whole, we like his
recommendation of a careful classifica-
tion of paupers. He would divide them
into three categories, — first, second, and
third, — with certificates as in bank-
ruptcy. Misfortune or other unavoidable
causes would entitle to a first-class
certificate and liberal out-door relief;
improvidence, to a second-class paper
and a scantier allowance ; reserving the
third-class certificate for vice and
wrong-doing, which is to be relieved in
the workhouse and with hard labour.
Vioneites of American History, By
Mary HowitL Pp. 138. London:
S. W. Partridge and Co., 19, Pater-
noster How.
The American claims, as a matter of
course, to be a sharer in the great in-
heritance of English history and litera-
ture. But the Englishman is entitled
to set up a counter-claim. The Pilgrim
fathers were Britons, and we, too, are
proud of them ; we vindicate our right
10 glory in their renown, and to read,
as in the book of our own kindred, the
inspiring details of their history. And
as these earliest settlers were ours, the
land they subdued to themselves is part
of our patrimony. Through them we
went to it in past centuries; and to,
and with their posterity, our own
brothers, sons, and cousins continue to
go, and to become united, to this day.
All that concerns the United States of
America has, thus, interest and con-
sequence for us ; and animated by this
just feeling, Mrs. Howitt has repro-
duced in her own charming style, a
score of striking incidents in American
history, for the information of young
English folk. Her subjects are these :
• Christopher Columbus ;' • Cortez Ap-
proaching Mexico ;' * Pacahontas In-
terceding for John Smith;' * Landing
of the Pilgrim Fathers;' * Meeting of
the Assembly in Virginia;* 'Roger
Williams's Departure from Salem ; '
* John Eliot Preaching to the Indians;'
* Rhode Island Receives its Charter;'
*The Sheriff Ejected in New Hamp-
shire ;' * Bacon Addressing the Council ;'
* William Penn and Pennsvlvania ; *
* Penn's Treatv with the Indians ; '
* William Penn's Departure;' * Whit-
field Preaching ;' * The Death of General
Wolfe;' 'Stamp Act Riots;' 'The
Boston Tea Party ;' • General Burgoyne
and the Indians;' 'Washington's
Reception in New York;* and * Wash-
ington Takes Leave of the Army.* To
each of these incidents an excellent
illustration, done on wood, is added;
making of the book a collection at once
of ' pictures ' and ' tales,' admirably
adapted for the proud possession, grati-
fied perusal, and useful instruction of
young people.
Ike Ordinartce of Leviies. By James
Suter, Author of Moral Statistics of
the Highlands and Islands of Scot-
land. Pp. 96. Edinburgh : William
P. Nimmo ; London : Simpkin, Mar-
shall, and Co.
Unable to accept the premisses, it is not
surprising that we disagree with the
conclusions of the writer of this queer
little book. ' In the earliest times,' he
says, 'the fathers and elders, or first-
born of mankind, were the priests and
rulers, and received tithes as their
rightful inheritance.' Allowing it to
have been so (a very gratuitous assump-
tion), this was a comfortable arrange-
ment, no doubt, for the fathers and
elders ; but the case for the sons and
juniors is left unstated. 'The fathers
and elders at first possessed both tithes
and authority, but when younger men
obtained authority they withheld the
tithes from the elders.* Was it very
wicked of them to withhold them?
Black mail is not a pleasant thing to be
the victim of, under any of its names ;
and why one should pay it to one's own
brother or uncle because he happened
to be born first, is a question that does
not carry with it its own sufficient ex-
planation. Nor does it seem to follow
from the mere fact that the Hebrews,
who had neither poor rates nor pew
rents to pay, were expected to pay
tithes, that every Englishman and
Scotchman is bound to do likewise.
Neither is it easy to acknowledge that
even if he were, the members of th^
94
Notices of Books.
tribe of Leri still retain their old right
to the tithes: and the difficultT is in-
creased wLen theT are nid to be entitled
not in their own persons, but in the old
men and women of ererr xiation.
• Erery one of the LeTitcs,* Sir. Suter
sajs. * male and female, rich and poor,
strong and weak, learned and unlearned,
had an equal right, irrespectire of hi-
diTidual preference or merit, to the
tithes of the people. So all ihe eMers
or first-bom, male and female, rich
and poor, strong and weak, learned
and unlearned, hare now the same
rights as the elders and first-born
of primt-Tal time*.* The logical
chasm yawning between the two
sentences in the foregoing quot;ition we
are quite unable to orerleap. Mr. Sater
takes a run and a jump, aud s':.ut^ his
eves tfght, and ii* across in a moment
\Ve stand on the brink, look down,
shake our beads, and give up the enter-
prise in de>pair. It is u<e!e»s to
attempt to follow a writer who sets at
defiance all the possibilities of the
logical mind. His main object appears
to be to persuade the public at large
that all old people, whether rich or
poor, are Levitcs, and as such are
entitled to be pensioned. Success to
Hr. Suter.
Graham's Temperance Guide, Hand-
book, and Almanack Jor 1809. Edited
by the Rev. Dawson Burns, A.M.
Staidstone: G. H. Graham, 35,
Kin^sley Road.
Bt successive steps, Graham's Guide
has risen from a moderate to a high
degree of excellence and value. It ob-
tained the accession of its present editor
in a manner very creditable to its pro-
Erietor. The eagle-eye of the Rev.
lawson Burns detected in the Guide,
as originally published, a multitude of
errors; and it happened that in the
columns of the Alliance News he had an
opportunity of pointing out some of
these. Mortifiea, no doubt, Mr.
Graham must have felt, bu( his retort
was masterly. In effect, ho said, * You
who find 80 much fault, show us how
much bcttei* you can manage the matter.*
Mr. Burns accepted the challenge, and
tlie result is an improvement in the
quality, and an enlargement in the
quantity, of the material of the Guide,
setting tin's high above all contemporary
publications of the kind. The list of
OOntontfl alone fills four closely printed
pag^ of the Guide, m> nmneroiis and
Taried are they. It might be a modi
easier libour to name the matters con-
nected with the Temperance morement
that are not contained in this Tolume^
than to give a list of those which ara.
Fur the absent items, a xerj small
space would suffice ; a minutely detailed
account of those presented in the Qaide
would occupy a tcpt considerable
amount of room. A single glanoe of
an ere intelligent of temperance mat-
ters, roust be quite enough to nttisfy
the owner that this Tolume is singularlj
rich in the amount and variety of the
information it contains, and is in ex-
oer.ent editorial hands. To all the
active part of <he temperance public,
we hold i: to be quite indispensable.
Jennys Geranium : or, the Prize Flower
of a London Court, Pp. 95. London:
S. W. Partridge and Co., 9, POer-
noster Row.
'Jexky's geranium,* as this pleasing
little tale informs us, first bloomed in
a good man's garden ; thence it went
to a dreary, miserable room in a 'courts
in London. There it became a joy and
gladness past expression to a little
orphan girl, who, while mooming the
loss of a fond mother, had the addi-
tional grief of being the child of a
drunken lather. Regardless of hie
daughter's love for the plant, this be-
sotted creature one night took it to the
public-house to sell for drink. The
geranium was rescued by a friend of
Jenny's, and was restored to its owner ;
and after a succession of events, in-
cluding the severe illness and reforma-
tion of the father, Jenny, the heroine
of the tale, is restored with her parent
to comfort and well-being. The good
supposed to have resulted from the
culture of her geranium extends beyond
Jenny and her fatlier. The pleasing
example spreads. Other geraniums are
cultivated in the neighbourhood, and
many people become reclaimed from
drunkenness. If iJie reader dues not
quite free how all this could well come
out of a geranium, that matters the less
as the tale is nicely told and carries Uie
reader along with it very pleasantly.
The wood-cuts in which Jenny appears
are really lovely.
Sermons. By the Rev. John Ker,
Glasgow. Pp. 385. Edinburgh:
Edmonston and Douglas.
Unibue to continue his regular pulpit
Notices of Books.
95
labours, Mr. Ker seeks an audience by
means of the press, * chiefly for the
sake of those whom the author was
accustomed to address by the living
voice.* * His purpose will be served if
the volume helps them in the way of
remembranco, and more than eerved if,
through God's blessing, it shall prove
of any use beyond their circle.' ' Most
of the sermons,' ho adds, ' though not
all, have been preached.' 'The sub-
jects have not been selected with any
attempt at unify in the illustration of
Christian doctrine or duty. An effort
has rather been made to secure a variety
of topics. When human knowledge
and life are spreading out into ever
wider circuits, the Christian ministry
must seek to show itself a debtor to men
of every class and character, and must
endeavour to prove that there is no
department of thought or action which
cannot be touched by that gospel which
is the manifold wisclom of God. The
more we study the way of God's com-
mandments, the more shall we Gnd it
as broad as His other works, and in-
creasingly rich to meet all the develop-
ments of human nature. At the same
time, it is hoped that the unity sought
to be indicated by beginning and end-
ing the volume with Christ Jesus, is
not merely formal, and that, whatever
may be the theme, it will be seen and
felt to base itself in that One Founda-
tion, and to btrive, though all imper-
fectly, after the^ excellency of Hi»
knowledge/
The volume contains twenty-four
sermons, of which the following are the
titles: — 'Christ and His Words.' —
* Christ in Simon's House.' — * The
Pharisee's Mistake.' — * God's Word
Suited to Man's Sense of Wonder.' —
* Increase of Knowledge, Increase of
Sorrow.' — * God Declining First Offers
of Service.' — 'A Worldly Choice and
its Consequences.' — * Chi ist the Dav-
dawn and the Rain.' — 'Is Man entirely
Selfish?'— 'Not Far from the Kingdom
of God.'— 'Work and Watching.'—
* The Burial of Mo.sea ; its Tjcssons and
Suggestions.' — * Moses and Stephen.' —
•The Old Testament and the New.'—
* Faith's Approach to Christ.' — ' Christ
Not Pleasing Himself. Christian and
Social Tolerance.' — 'The Changes of
L'fe and their Comforts in God.' —
*The Gospel and the Magnitude of
Creation.' — * Reasons why God should
'Contradict our Hope of Immortality if
it were False.' — 'Christ's Delay to
Interfere Against Death.' — ' Judas and
the Priests.'—' The End of Evil Asso-
ciations.'— ' Christ's Reticence in
Teaching Truth.'— 'Christ's Desire to
Eat of the Last Passover.' — * Christ's
Praver for His Disciples.' — ' Hope and
Patience.'— 'The Eternal Future Clear
Only in Christ.' — ^There is much that
pleases us in these discourses. They
are thoughtful, liberal, and earnest, and
are decidedly superior to the average of
published sermons.
Invention of the Electric leleffraph.
The Charge against. Sir Charles
Wheatstone^ of Tampering with the
Jfress^ as Evidenced by a Letter of the
Editor of the * Quarterly Beview,* in
18t55. Reprinted from the ' Scien-
tific Review.' London : Simpkin,
Marshall, and Co.
TnE dispute between Mr. Cooke and
Sir Charles Wheatstone as to their
respective claims of honour in electric
telegraphy is brought to a crisis in this
pamphlet. Allegations are made herein
whicn, if allowed to go by default, must
not only be taken to prove that Mr.
Cooke had by far the prmcipal share in
the introduction of (he telegraph in
England (that is now becoming gene-
rally allowed), but also that Sir Charles
Wheatstone, his quondam partner, is
guilty of serious want — we will not say
of magnanimity — but of justice. Mr.
Cooke's brother does battle with a zeal
truly fraternal. It is remarkable, how-
ever, that whilst Cooke and Wheatstone
are debating their shares in the prac-
tical introduction of electric telegraphy ,
our friends in the United States always
claim for themselves the honour of tne
invention. We should like to have seen
this aspect of the case set in a clear light
by the author of this pamphlet.
Topics for Teachers. A New Work for
Ministers, Sunday-school Teachers,
and others, on an entirely original
plan. ByJamesComper Gray, Halifax,
author of ' The Class and the Desk.'
Illustrated with over 200 engravings
and 8 first-class maps.
The second, third, and fourth parts of
this new work have been forwarded to
us. It is to be completed in eighteen
monthly portions. The zoology, botany,
and geography of the Bible are lucidly
expounded with the aid of woodcuts in
the first section, which is devoted to
* Nature.' This seems likely to be a yery
96
Notices of Books.
useful compendium for Sunday-school
teachers.
ITie ffive, A Storehouse of Material for
Working Sunday-school Teachers,
Elliot Stock, 62, Paterncster Row.
This is another of the serials which
have started up of late to supply wants
well understood and often bitterly felt
by Sunday-school teachers. It is very
well put together.
Old Jonathan, The District and Parish
Helper. London: W. H. Collingridge,
117, Aldersgate-street. •
Old Jonatlian has assumed a new shape.
No longer a large sheet, it now more
nearly resembles the 'British Work-
man ' in shape and size. It belongs to
the same useful class of publications.
The Appendix. A Manual of Chants,
Anthems, and Hymns^ for Public
Worship. London: J. Snow and Co.,
2, Ivy Lane, Paternoater Row.
SiXTT chants and canticles, forty-two
antiiems, and sixty-five hymns, make
up this little collection. It purports to
be, not simply an appendix, out the
appendix ; to what, the compiler for-
gets to state. The chants and canticles
are well selected and intelligently
pointed; the anthems have references
to music suitable for them ; and the
hymns are almost all of superior
quality, mostly culled from such sources
as are familiar to the Episcopalian
churchman.
Illustrated Temperance Anecdotes; or.
Facts and Figures for the Platform
and the People. Compiled by the
Editor of the 'British Workman.*
Pp. 144. London : S. W. Partridge
and Co., 9, Paternoster Row.
Most readers of the •British Work-
man' must retain, impressed in their
minds, recollections of anecdotes often
set off with striking engravings, and
each teaching some useful lesson of
thrift and prudence, of temperance,
common sense, or piety ; and perhaps
the thought has occurred to some, that
a handy little volume, nicely printed
and bound, and filled with the best of
these anecdotes, would be a valuable
present to give to some friend strug-
gling with the special perils that haunt
working class life. Here, now, is just
Buch a volume. The major part of its
contents has already been printed in
the * British Workman ; ' and as some
of the anecdotes are known to have
been the means of inducing the aban.
donment of drinking habits, and the
right application of wages in clothing
and feeding families, and furnishing
homes, it is now hoped that in
this collective form, the anecdotes will
have a new mission of usefulness.
Temperance advocates and Sunday-
school teachers especially will find the
volume useful. Of the one hundred
and twenty anecdotes here given, a
large number are appropriately illue-
trated.
Healing Leaves; Gathered by Walter
Ludbrook.
London Temperance Tracts, — The Depdt,
Milton Hall, Camden Town.
Capital tracts for temperance reformers,
and exceedingly cheap. More than
600,000 of them have been sold already.
The Life-Boat, or Journal of the National
Life-Boat Institution. Issued Quar-
terly. London: Richard Lewis, 14,
John-street, Adelphi.
Industriously fans and helps to keep
alive the glorious spark of shipwreck-
rescuing humanity.
The East-London Evangelist : A Monthly
Becord of Christian Work among the
People, and Organ of the East-
London Christian Mission. Edited
by William Booth. London: Morgan
and Chase, 38, Ludgate HilL
Fully recognises the importance of
temperance advocacy in aid of evange-
lising work.
The Scattered Nation. Edited by C.
Schwartz, D.D. E'liot Stock, 62,
Paternoster Row, London.
A monthly religious magazine, edited
by a Christian Jew.
The Church, London : Elliot Stock.
A MONTHLY penny magazine.
T7ie Appeal : A Magazine for the People^
London : Elliot Stock.
A MONTHLY religious magazine, price
one halfpenny.
The Book-Hawkina Circular; a Qu/or-
terly Paper of the Church of England
Book-Hawking Union, forming a
Useful Manual for the Promoters,
Officers, and Agents of Book- Hawking
Associations in England and Wales,
London : Church of England Book-
Hawking Union Depot ; and Riving-
ton, 3, Waterloo Place.
London Temperance Almanac for 1869,
and Diary of Temperance Beformers,
^c.,^c. London: Walter Ludbrook^.
Milton Hall, Camden Tofrn.
Meliora.
MB. LEOKT'S HISTORY OF EUROPEAN MORALS.
1. A History of Ewropean Morals from Augustus to OharU*
magne. By William Edward Hartpole Lecky^ M.A.
2 vols. London : Longmans^ Green^ & Co. 1859.
2. The Fortnightly Review for May. Art. 2. Mr. Lecky's
First Chapter. By the Editor.
MR. LECKY possesses in an eminent degree the genias of
a moral historian. He has a profound sympathy with
every phase of human life^ subtle insight^ patient research,
vast learning, a chaste and manly style^ and never allows him-
self to be warped by a desire to spin fine theories. The great
defect of his present work to many minds will be its want of
two or three generalisations that can be carried in the
memory; but when we remember the essential di£ference
between a work like Buckleys ' History of Civilisation ^ and a
history of morals^ the defect^ if so it be^ does not seem very
striking. Mr. Lecky excels in narrative^ and spares no labour
in making its details as full and exact as possible. His foot-
notes are rich in curious learning, and his whole work is
conceived in a liberal and philosophic spirit. The introductory
chapter on ^ The Natural History of Morals ' is, of course,
controversial, and is the weakest portion of the book. It has
already evoked a vigorous and smart reply, on behalf of tlie
utilitarian school, from the pen of Mr. John Morley, in the
'Fortnightly Review,' and we are reluctantly compelled to
<>onsider it proved that the chapter in question has 'the
double demerit of doing the greatest possible injustice to the
utilitarian school, and the least possible justice to the intuitive
school.' With that admission, however, our fault-finding
ends. The chapter is no necessary part of the book, except
fU3 it establishes Mr. Lecky's honesty in refusing to write a
Vol. 12.— jRTo. 46. a
98 Jfr. LeckifB History of European Morals.
liistory of morals from the intuitive stand-point withoiiir
stating why he belonged to that school^ and it is pretty certain
to be considerably modified in a sabseqaent edition. What*
ever haziness there may be about it does not impair the value
of what follows; nay, we can conceive an eclectic moralist
contending that Mr. Lecky's later chapters are evidence that
ntility does supply part of a general conscience^ even though
there may be a fundamental moral sense in individuals. Mr.
Lecky's chapters on the Pagan Empire, the Conversion of
Home, and the Position of Women are full of interest, and
will cause many readers to regret that he did not undertake
to bring his history down to a much later period. The seven
hundred years between Augustus and Charlemagne certainly
exhibited the moral revolutions effected by Christianity, and
almost bring the present work down to a previous one from
the same hand ; but still there seems a gap left which even
copious foot-notes do not enable us to bridge over, and we are
loft amidst a host of difficulties the work has raised without
Bottling, and of doubts it has created without satisfying.
These may be evidences of the author^s power and of our own
narrowness of vision, since he leaves with a full and restless
mind. However that may be, his history will have a powerful
interest for all students of morals, and open new fields of in-
quiry for all who are attracted by the moving agencies in
human evolution.
The historian of morals, remarks Mr. Lecky, has three
questions to deal with ; the changes that have taken place in
the general moral standard, in the moral type or ideal of
successive periods, and in the realised morals of the people.
By the first, he understands the degrees in which, in different
ages, recognised virtues have been enjoined and practised; by
the second, the relative importance that in different ages has
been attached to different virtues; and by the third the
distance or unity between moral teachers and the people.
His example of the first is a very happy one. He remarks
that ' a Roman of the age of Pliny, an Englishman of the age
of Henry VIII., and an Englishman of our own day would all
agree in regarding humanity as a virtue, and its opposite as a
vice ; but their judgment of the acts which are compatible
with a humane disposition would be widely different. A
humane man of the first period might derive enjoyment from
those gladiatorial games, which an Englishman, even in the
days of the Tudors, would regard as perfectly barbarous ; and
this last would, in his turn, acquiesce in many sports which
would now be emphatically condemned.' Thus, it may be
true^ as Buckle contends, that we have added little to the
Mr. Lecky's History of European Morals. 99
' great dogmas of which moral systems are composed/ whilst
onr intellectual acquisitions have very signally increased, and
yet it does not prove that morals are stationary, for in this
one department we have made most rapid advances. Kindness
to animals, for example, is a new field of moral conquest, and
an amount of cruelty might have been practised a thousand
years ago which would now be utterly repugnant to the good
sense of the most uneducated. We shall presently trace this
more at length, and simply refer to it now in order to
emphasize the central truth of Mr. Lecky^s book, that moral
progress is a fact dependent on many causes, and, when not
seen in the acquisition of new truths, is at least visible in the
fuller and newer meaning given to old ones. In explaining
the meaning of a change in the moral type, Mr. Lecky refers
to the order of precedence accorded to diflferent virtues in
diifferent civilisations. His use of the term rudimentary,
applied to the cardinal test-virtue of any one period, is very
unfortunate, and not a little misleading, now we have come
almost to restrict the term to its secondary meanings. If our
readers will use a convenient synonym they will much better
understand what follows.
* Rudimentary virtues vary in different ages, nations, and classes. Thus, in the
great republics of antiquity patriotism was rudimentaiy, for it was so assiduously
cultiyated that it appearea at once the most obvious and the most essential of
duties. Among ourselyes much private virtue may co-exist with complete in-
difference to national interests. In the monastic period, and in a somewhat
different form in the age of chivalry, a spirit of reverential obedience was rudi-
menlary, and the basis of all moral progress ; but we may now frequently find a
good man without it, his moral energies having been cultivated in other direction?.
Common truthfulness and honesty are rudimentary virtues in industrial societies,
but not in others. Chastity, in England at least, is a rudimentary female virtue,
but scarcely a rudimentary virtue amongst men, and it has not been in all ages,
and is not now in all countries, rudimentary amongst women. There is no more
important task devolving upon a moral historian than to discover in each period
the rudimentary virtue, for it regulates in a great degree the poeition assigned to .
all others.'
The moral type of a period thus leads to the formation of
groups or orders of virtues, ranged in subordination or
* equality to the ' rudimentary ' one, or in other words : —
' The heroical, the amiable, the intellectual virtues form in this manner distinct
groups; and in some cases the development of one group is incompatible, not
indeed with the existence, but with the prominence of uie others. Content cannot
be the leading virtue in a society animated by an intense industrial spirit, or sub-
mission or tolerance of injuries in a society formed upon a military type, or
intellectual virtues in a society where a believing spirit is made the essential of
goodness, yet each of these conditions is the special sphere of some particular
class of virtues. The distinctive beauty of a moral type depends not so much on
the elements of which it is composed as of the proportions in which those
elements are combined. The characters of Socrates, of Gate, of Bayard, of
F^nelon, and of St. Francis Assisi are all beautiful, bat the^ dfiffer generically,
and not limplj in degrees of eicellenct. To endeayour to imj^trt tA. C«i(s^ "Ooi^
1 00 Mr. Ledey^s Eittory of Efur&pean Mt>rdU.
diftinetiTa ohami of St. Fnncis, or to St Francif that of Cato, would be ••
«btard as to eadeayour to unite in a single statue the beauties of the Apollo and
the Laoooon, or in a single landscape the beauties of the twilight and of the
meridian sun. Take awaj pride from the ancient Stoic and the modern English-
man, and you would hare aestrojed the basis of many of bis noblest rirtues, but
humility was the yerj principle and root of the moral qualities of the ascetia'
This humility, wo may also note, was a moral advance,
because it added a new type to the Western world, and when,
in its celibate form, it had united itself with militarism,
flowered into chivalry and found a broader ideal in Charle-
magne. Mr. Lecky fails to note here, strangely, seeing
that the fact is so obvious, that the more complex our
civilisation becomes the less and less any one typical virtue
holds sway. Thus, modern nations have sevem prevailing
types. We are not less patriotic than military nations, when
fuUy aroused, but we are moved by so many impulses that
the motive to arouse us must be stronger. lioT are we less
reverential, though it is in a diflTerent fashion, or It'SS
charitable, though in a form that has varied with the
extinction of European slavery and an organised system of
State relief of the poor. Stoicism taught the brotherhood of
man, and Christianity effectually destroyed the patriotism of
the old type ; but we should mistake if we supposed nations
are less patriotic, when occasion demands, because constant
intercourse with other nations softens racial and religious
animosities, and commerce has developed a new basis and
bond of union.
Patriotism still forms one of the group of virtues that
constitute character, and whether it shall be a temporary
test-virtue depends upon considerations which are not
constant, as in past times, but vary as the winds. If any one
doubts the patriotism of industrial England, let him raise the
cry of invasion, and England will cheerfully bear extra income
tax, spend millions in fortifications, and raise an army of citizen
soldiers, who would die to a man in defence of their native
land. If this is not patriotism, we hardly know what is.
Other virtues might be treated in the same way. A simple
type disappears with a simple civilisation, and the golden
possibilities of humanity increase with every moral and
intellectual acquisition. This, in truth, is the very opposite
of moral change without progress. A man may be dis-
tinguished for humility, and yet fight as terribly as Cromwell's
Roundheads did; ho may be full of religion, without
denouncing the iniquity of doubt ; and he may be animated
by the restlessness of industrial civilisation, without par-
ticipating in what Mr. Lecky conceives to be its characteristic
nnchastity. 'We may gain more than we lose, but wo
Meliora.
ME. LECKY'S HISTORY OP BUEOPEAS ISORKIS
1, A History of European MoraU from Avgwtm t- 0^"^
magne. B7 William Edward Hartpnlp Liwrr V, ■
2 voli. London: LongmuiB, Qroen, k C& I>^
2. The Forlnightly BevUa for May. Art. 2. * t*^
Finl Chapter. By the Editor.
M
B. LECKT poMeMM in an a
a moral hutMiao. He lia
•very phaw of Immaii life,
TBit learning, a cluwte and minljafeTlB.j>
■rif to be wMpad 1>r * danra to ^HB fap
Jtftat of Ma pM— t work to
^^^^K'ttiree geoeroliaa
^^^^Ht] but when
^HMk a wock like BueWe
liaCory of aorab, the dUetuS
BinkiDg. Vr. Lec^ eceei* mm
'^-'^aetaib«fat«»».
102 Mr. Lecky^s History of European JloraJs.
reverse. Historically we do not find this to be the case.
The classic period of history shows us that suicide is largely
dependent upon moral ideas respecting death and a future
life^ and we also find suicide much more common then than
in modem times. What general causes were more favourable
to it then than now ? We are completely at a loss to
answer. In Greece the common notion was that it was
quite allowable to kill one's self, as we gather from Plato's
' Pheedo ' and other sources. Valerianus Maximus even
states that poison was kept by the Senate of Marseilles, in
accordance with a law borrowed from Greece, and given to
those persons who could justify their death by sufficient
reasons, the authorities thereby wishing to prevent hasty and
too frequent suicides. Plato, Aristotle, and many of the wise
men condemned suicide, some as unjust to God, others as
wrong towards the State ; but, as Mr. Lecky says, ' a general
approval of it floated down through most of the schools of
philosophy, and even to those who condemned it, it never
seems to have assumed its present aspect of enormity.' The
Stoics generally, in spite of their high moral ideal, their
patriotic virtue, their superiority to the surrounding condi-
tions in which they lived, and their grand notions respecting
the dignity of man, resisting the world, the ascendancy of
reason, and the virtue of action, were tainted with the im-
moral doctrine of the lawfulness of suicide. Cato was their
ideal man. As Pliny extolled the bounty of Providence
because it had filled the world with herbs whereby the weary
could procure a rapid and painless death, so Seneca riots in
the idea that there are many ways by which the weary and
the slave can break their chains. ^ Against all the injuries of
life,' he says, ^ I have the refuge of death. Wherever you
look there is the end of evils. You see that yawning preci-
pice— there you may descend to liberty. You see that sea,
that river, that well — liberty sits at the bottom. Do you
seek the way to freedom ? You may find it in every vein of
your body Man should seek the approbation of
others in his life ; his death concerns only himself. . . .
The lot of man is happy, because no one continues wretched
but by his own fault. If life pleases you, live. K not, you
have a right to return whence you came.' Epictetus and
Musonius wrot« in the same strain; and even Marcus Aurelius,
who condemned suicide, recognised its rightfulness in some
cases, especially to prevent moral degeneracy. There was no
want of sympathy here between the philosophers and the
people. Suicides were common, often dramatic, and some-
Mr. Lecky^B History of European Morals. 103
times took place amidst a group of admiring friends.* When
Otho killed himself to avoid being a second time the cause
of civil war (a.d. 69), some of his soldiers killed themselves
before his corpse to testify their admiration, and Tacitus
declares that others, not present, did the same when they
heard the news. TuUius Marcellinus, afflicted with an in-
curable disease, sought the advice of a philosopher, who
recommended suicide, which advice Marcellinus gladly em-
braced. He was ^ a young man of remarkable abilities and
very earnest character,^ says Mr. Lecky. There were only two
laws against suicide in the Roman Empire in pagan times ;
Domitian, to prevent suicide before trial, ordaining that it
should entail exposure of the body and confiscation of goods,
exactly the same as condemnation ; and Hadrian assimilating
suicide to desertion, a step similar to that taken by Napoleon
in 1802 to check suicide amongst his soldiers. 'With these
exceptions the liberty appears to have been absolute,' and we
learn from Ulpian that the wills of suicides were recognised
by law. The custom of burying the suicide after sunset is of
Jewish origin.
What were the causes of this conception of suicide as a
euthanasia ? Two at once suggest themselves. The absence
of all idea of sin from the stoical morality, and the notion of
death as the end of sorrow, and of a future life as little more
than a beautiful uncertainty. Death was viewed as ' a law and
not a punishment,' and the whole course of stoical teaching
was intended to clear the mind of shame or fear. Thus, to
give Mr. Lecky's convenient epitome :—
' The doctrine of suicide was ibe culminatiog point ot iKoman stoicism. 1Da§
proud, Belf-reliant, unbending character of the philosopher could only be sustained
when he felt that he had a sure refuge against the extreme forms of sulTering or
despair. Although virtue is not a mere creature of interest, no great system liai
ever jet flourished which did not present an ideal of happiness as well as of dutj.
Stoicism taught men to hope little but to fear nothing. It did not array death m
brilliant colours, as the path to positive felicity, but it endeavoured to divest it^
as the end of suffering, of every terror. Life lost much of its bitterness when men.
had found a refuge from the storms of fate, a speedy deliverance from dotage and
pain. Death ceased to be terrible when it was regarded rather as a remedy than a
sentence. Life and death were attuned to the same key. . . . The type of itf
own kind was perfect All the virtues and all the majesty that accompany human
pride, when developed to the highest point, and directed to the noblest ends, wera
Lere displayed. AH those which accompany humility and self-abasement wort
absent.'
The first emphatic condemnation of suicide, on grounds
personal to the victim, was made by Neo-Platonism. It waa
* Hegesias of Alexandria was called the ' orator of death ' becauae he preached
laicide. He waa banished by Ptolemy.
104 JUn Leck^s Hiatory of Eurcpaan Morahti
Plotinns wlio iaaght that as perturbation pollated the sooli
the spirit of the suicide left his body with a stain upon it.
Christianity extended this doctrine^ and registered^ in the
earliest days of the Churchy a most emphatic condemnation of
the act. This is the more remarkable as the New Testament
contains no direct positive precept against suicide^ and the
opportunity referred to in John viii., 22, does not seem to
have been taken to include self-slaughter with the command*
ment against murder spiritualised in Matt, v., 22. The early
Church, however, made no distinction between murder and
suicide, except where the latter followed the intoxicated
desire for martyrdom common to early converts, or was resorted
to, under extreme circumstances, by women to gu£urd their
chastity. In the two latter cases they excused it, and on
many occasions expressed high admiration of those who pre*
ferred death to shame, whilst hesitating to justify the suicide
itself. The doctrine of the penal nature of death, the duty of
resignation to pain and evil as elements of moral discipline,
and above all the clear conception of a future life affected
by the good or evil of the present one, all contributed to make
direct and deliberate suicide a crime, and banish it from the
Church. The Gircumcelliones, the Albigenses, and in later
times the Jews were driven by various causes to practise it ;
the first for the sake of salvation, the second to accelerate
death in illness, and the third to avoid persecution and torture.
No direct change in legislation was made until the sixth
century, when the Council of Bragues ordained that no
religious rites should be celebrated at the tomb of the suicide,
and no masses said for his soul.
'St. Lewis originated the custom of confiscating the property of the dead maO|
and the corpse was soon subject to gross and Tarious outrages. In some countriea
it oonld only be remoyed from the house through a perforation specially made for
the occasion in the wall; it was dragged upon the hurdle through the streets,
hang up with the head downwards, and at last thrown into the public sewer, or
bnrnt, or buned in the sand below high-water mark, or transfixed by a stake on
the public highway.'
We need not wonder that suicide should have been almost
unknown under the empire of Catholicism and Mahommed-
anism, it being expressly condemned by name in the Koran^
whereas the Bible supplies us with no positive prohibition.
The later history of society shows that the moral repulsion
felt towards the crime was lessened by the revival of classical
studies; some partial apologies were even made for it in
England in the seventeenth and the first half of the eighteenth
century. The magistrates and priests of Sir Thomas More'a
Jfr. Lecky's History of European Morals. 105
'Utopia' are represented as permitting and occasionally en-
joining the suicide of those afflicted with incurable diseases.
Dr. Donne, the eccentric dean of St. Paul's, wrote a defence
of self-homicide, under the title of ^ Biathanus/ It is of this
work that he wrote to Lord Antrim : ^ Reserve it for me
if I live, and if I die I only forbid it the press and the fire.
Publish it not, but bum it not, but between those do what
you like with it/ Blount and Creech, two classic editors of
now European renown, were apologists for suicide, and both
thus ended their existence. ' When I have finished my
commentary I must kill myself,' Creech wrote on the margin
of his translation of Lucretius; and he kept his word.
Montesquieu and Rousseau defended suicide, as did Holbach
and Deslandes, and Voltaire admitted its rightfulness in
cases of necessity. Madame de Stael, who had commended
suicide in a youthful work, devoted a later one to a tender
and pious declaration of its incompatibility with anything
liko virtue. ' Though there are many crimes of a deeper dye
than suicide,' she writes in her ^ Reflexions,' ^ there is no other
by which men appear so formally to renounce the protection
of God.' This, indeed, strengthened by considerations as to
the future of the soul, and the general belief in the sanctity
of all human life, is found more operative in preventing
suicide than peaceful and prosperous times, laws confiscating
property, the unchristian burial that follows a verdict of felo
de se, or the 'general conditions of society.' The case of
suicide is indeed a strong one in favour of a moral growth
almost wholly independent of really intellectual advance. An
obscure member of one of the most obscure religious sects of
our land feels a repugnance to suicide which is due to an
increase iu the moral acquisitions of the race, and not to any
superiority of intelligence or any scientific advance. A rude
Cornish miner is in this respect in advance of Seneca or
Epictetus, though he would be unable to blurt out more than
one or two insufficient reasons for his belief. In fine, the
law of inherited capacities is as much moial as intellec-
tual in its operation.
Before we pass to our second topic we ought to say a word
or two on infanticide. Like suicide, this was a classic crime,
and even where laws were enacted against it, and a distinction
made between it and exposition, they were constantly and
easily evaded. It will not fail to be noted as extraordinary
that Chremes, in Terence, who utters the memorable line,
^ Homo sum humani nihil a me alienum puto/ reproaches his
wife for having exposed her little girl instead of having it
Mr. LkIV* -ff-*"? »/ if»*«P«* Uoroi*'
,ecl the
sonlf
pon it"
tlie spirit of the Baicide left his body wth ^ «»
ChrUtiimity eilenddd lliis dootrmo, ™° .„ " aoni"— - ^
wriiest d.y8 of tke Clmrcli, a most empb.tio con ^^ ^t^neot
(1» «,t. 4i. i. tie more remmk.blo ...tb. ^^^io, «■! ";° .
oontsmi no direct positive P"«i'P'..'B»' •, " „ot seem W I
opportnnitT referred to in Jobn ■"»■■/''''';,,, .to oomm""^ I
bare been taken to include self-slaos""! "' jo. The «•
ment against murder spiritualised in *^^ ' ' " murder i
Oburcb.bowovor, made no distinction "etjec ^ intoiioaW'
suicide, except where tbe latter fouoweu^^^ ^^ „„ resorW
desire for martyrdom common to early c ^^ ' j.^ guard wia
to, under extreme circnmstances, by W" „pusetl it. ^^ A
chastity. In tie two latter oases «»•? " ,. those "bo W
many occasions expressed higli »?°;?*''™ ;„stity tbe sold
ferrid death to shine, whilst l"!'"'"? "[ 'dcatb, tbe dnWj
itself. The doctrine oflhepaiial nature oi J disoipl'f
resignation to pain and eril » ^y" fa future We a""*
and above all tbo clear conception oi ^^^^^^^^^ tQ 1«
by the good or eyil of the present one, aii ^^^.^^^ .^ f„n> q
direct and dehberate suicide a. cnme, JI". . ^g and i» "_
Oburoh. The OircumceUioneS, ""■*, causes to pracWOIJ
times the Jews were driven t>^ '^i,b second to acoelcr'
the first for the sake of salva."™'.; ° „cutioniind torlo' =i
death in illness, and the third to """t/ '^ae untU tbo •>»"
No direct change in legisUti^^ B„iraes ordained *^^^
oentnry, when the Council c»* j at the tomb of the ■"""
religious rites should be celebr^''®
and no masses said for his sool- ^^ a,^ Ka"
«.-,«ti»l! "» PT?' I. »»" «»?^'
•St I«wii oripnatod tb« cuitom of oonW**%ariii"» "°?"*?!L „-oi»lly i"a*IL
ud the eorpM «M soon Bubjeet to Krou •"**., ^gb « P"™!^,- thwiRb tta ***•
it ooQld only be remoTod from the booio th«*^^D Uie bunUB JP™"»j,(i^ .^Ma «■
tbo ooCMion in the waU; it wee dreg^ f^fc thrown ""f* "^ byni's"''
bnn( up with lie beed down.enie, end et '"J,"" "" ' "™^
bomt. or boried in the Mad below high-wn ■
,hopnbb..gbwe,.. «W^^'|KSS'
We need not wonder that BuiciJ^^^ ol>^^™ •« the 'Sarsr
nnknown under the empire of C&t-J^S ^J °"'"?? ' prohibitioi-
aniBm, it being expressly condemne*^^^ *»° ^v moiw repoUJ?*
whereas the Bible supplies us wifcl*^-^ JJ^^.J' l,_;™io{ctasrie'
The later history of society shows ^f^:? ,!rma4e ^^ * 'i
felt towards the crime was lessened "^^^r^ V^i <,! the eightoaot]
studies; some partial apologies w^ ^^^&^ „ g^^thDiou^^t"*-
England in the seventeenth and the ff ^^^^ **
century. The magistrates and priesC^ ""^
306 Mr. Leehy's History of Ewropea/n Morals.
killed, as he had advised.* Abortion and infanticide were
both checked by the theology of the early Church. A mother
"who believed that the soul of her infant was damned if it
died unbaptised, or unblessed, was not likely to destroy it, or
yet to stain her own soul with the guilt of murder. Infanti-
cide was made a capital oiffence by Valentinian, in a.d. 374,
and the early Christians were noted for their care and love
for unfortunate foundlings. Moral feeling, however, rather
than legislative restriction, has been the principal agent in
80 incorporating an idea of the sanctity of infant life with
our modern notions as to make it 'independent of all
doctrinal changes.'
' If the hammer and the shuttle could move themselves,
slavery would be unnecessary.' This was Aristotle's opinion,
and is accepted almost as prophecy by those who imagine
that the revolutions of invention and labour are the main
causes of the decrease of slavery and our detestation of the
system. We are quite willing, however, to admit several
initial facts respecting slavery : — ^First, that slave-holding was
an advance upon the savage method of killing captives taken
in war; secondly, that slave labour was an indispensable
element in early half-military, half-agricultural, and half-
industrial life ; and thirdly, as M. Comte happily puts it, that
' labour, accepted at first as a ransom of life, became after-
wards the ' (we prefer to read, a) ' principle of emancipation/
Having made these admissions, we pass on to deal with
Roman slavery, and as its main features are well-known, we
need make no apology for any scantiness of detail. Mr.
Lecky divides it into three periods. 1. The form that existed
in the earlier and simpler days of the Republic, when the
head of the family had few slaves, was absolute master of
them, and lived in intimate connection with them. On all
religious festivals the slaves were exempt from field labour,
and on the Saturnalia and Matronalia they sat at the same
table as their masters. 2. The period after the servile wars
of Sicily, the revolt of Spartacus, and the passion for gladia-
torial shows. This was the worst age of Roman slavery, as
the proverb, 'As many enemies as slaves,' fully testified.
When a master was murdered without evidence being forth-
coming as to the criminal, the whole of his slaves were pat
to death. When Pedamus was murdered the people rose in
* The authoritj of the parent was once mach higher than it is now. Thut, and«r
the Roman Law, a man might order his son to be slain, and in Deut zxi., 18 to 21|
it is stated that the rebellious son shall be brought to the gate and stoned to death.
Compare with these, the shooting of his son to avoid disgnoe bj the hero of Unole
Boiand's Tale in Chap. n. of Bulwer'f * Caxtont.'
Mr. LecJcy's History of European Morals. 107
revolt against the law, which condemned his four hundred
slaves, but the soldiers interfered and the men were executed.
Torture, working in chains, and other devices were resorted
to by the masters, and when they chose to get rid of a slave
they could have a choice of three methods : — if infirm, expose
him on an island of the Tiber ; but if able-bodied, flog him
within an inch of his life — plead necessity, and so escape all
punishment; or sell him for the gladiatorial shows. Only in
cases of incest, murder, &c., were slaves permitted to give
evidence, and then only when their testimony was indis-
pensable. Several deviations from modern slavery should be
borne in mind. A Roman slave could marry ; families were
rarely separated; slaves held private property and accumulated
savings, which they were frequently allowed to dispose of by
will ; and enfranchisement, by these moneys, or the kindness
of masters, was common. 3. The next period commences
after the enactment of the Petronian law, forbidding a master
to condemn a slave to fight with wild beasts without the
sentence of a judge. Nero, Domitian, the Antonines, and
Hadrian passed laws still further improving the lot of Roman
slaves. A judge was appointed to hear their complaints;
mutilation was forbidden ; and stringent regulations were
enforced against all undue severity, and the existence of
ergastida, or private prisons. Very little was done by subse-
quent legislation until the time of Justinian, who removed
restrictions upon enfranchisement, and desired to encourage
manumission ; the class of freed-men was virtually abolished,
and, with the authorisation of his master, a slave was per-
mitted to marry a free woman, his children becoming
legal heirs. Here, however, the direct stream of moral
influence begins to be felt. The Christian Church recognised
slavery ; but it brought the slave and the free man into new
relations ; gave moral dignity to the servile class, and com-
menced a public movement in favour of enfranchisement. The
law recognised distinctions that were lost in the Church.
Slave and free sat together, partook of the sacred elements,
mingled in the same worship. The chastity of the female
slave was zealously guarded by the Church. The priestly
office was not barred by colour or lowly birth, and hence mul-
titudes of emancipated slaves entered into ecclesiastical offices,
administering consolation or the symbols of the crucifixion to
their once lordly masters.* The virtues of the servile class
* A law of Henry II. enacted that ererjr Saxon serf who could get ordained
should thenceforth be amenable to none but ecclesiastic law. It was this that led to
the enormous multiplication of the clergy after the conquest — ^Thierry, YoL Y.,
p. 58.
108 Mr, Lecky^s History of European Morals.
were also recognised and exalted by Christianity. 'Humility^
obedience^ gentleness, resignation, are all cardinal virtues in
the Christian character; ihey were all neglected or underrated
by the Pagans, they can all expand and flourish in a servile
state/ Hence slavery was in correspondence with the group of
virtues prevailing after the sixth century. Stoicism asserted
the equality of all men, but made no effort to do more than
mitigate the condition of the slave. Christianity admitted
slavery, but in admitting it consecrated the virtues it deve-
loped, spread amongst them with electric charm, and finally
made emancipation a Christian duty, and initiated a move-
ment which has culminated in our time. Church ornaments
were sold to rescue slaves from thraldom, especially captives,
and the deeds of St. Augustine, St. Gregory the Great, St.
Caesarius, St. Exuperius, St. Hilary, St. Remi, St. Cyprian,
St. Epiphanius, St. Avitus, St. Peter Teleonarius, and St.
Serapion are well-known to ecclesiastical history, the two
latter having sold themselves into slavery to redeem others
when all their means were exhausted. The influence of
religion was continued in another form, when monachism, by
its association of high character and virtue with simple labour,
deprived menial occupations of their presumed degradation,
and led on to an industrialism which has made slavery incom-
patible with civilisation. Though late as 1775 the colliers of
Scotland were bound in perpetual servitude to the places at
which they worked,* we have long since come to have a
horror of human servitude that might be called instinctive,
did we not know it has been the result of ages of moral
growth, and is wholly incompatible with the group of virtues
that characterises the industrial epoch — independence, vera-
city, self-assertion, unity of class.
We have not much space left to devote to our third example
of accumulative moral feeling — kindness to animals. It is a
subject in itself. But it can hardly be passed over in silence.
There are abundant illustrations of delicacy of feeling towards
some particular animal to be found in ancient times, without
anything like the organised sensitiveness we feel in our own
day. Thus, the most useful animals speedily became objects of
veneration, as the cow in India, the bull in Egypt, whilst
many legends, and especially the Pythagorean doctrine of the
transmigration of souls, led to a tender regard for some of the
tamer animals. The ox, indeed, was in all countries supposed
to be exempt from cruel treatment, and especially in Palestine.
Still, except amongst the Hebrew races, there was an
* See note to Mc.Cullocb's edition of the Wealth of Nations, Vol II., p. 186.
Mr. Lecky^B History of Ewropewn Morals. 109'
absence of anything like humanity towards animals generally.
In Greeqe, cock-fighting, quail-fighting, and bull-fights were
common, and encouraged by the law, as supplying the people
with examples of valour. Chrysippus maintained that on
this ground cock-fighting was the final cause of cocks. The
combats with wild beasts in the Roman amphitheatre were
also examples of callousness which Christianity speedily set
itself to diminish. But just as the Church corporate checked
suicide, infanticide, and slavery, whilst monachism, or the'
third development of Christianity, dignified labour, so its
second form, asceticism, seems to have developed a new'
feeling towards the animal creation. The eremite sought to^
live a purely natural or Edenic life, and regain something of
lost power over himself and natural forms. Banished from
men he sank insensibly into the rank of animal life, superior
yet akin, the blossom yet still in connection with the rude
stem. Ihus the legends of the saints are full of touching
pictures of this intimacy. No one supposes they are all true,
but at least they have this amount of truth in them — ^they are
attempts, often grotesque enough, to represent a fact, and
had a marvellous influence in softening character. When
birds and domestic animals were associated with the piety of
this or that saint, they were certain to be exempt from
cruelty. An Irish peasant is kind to his pig for two reasons,
because it is his rent-payer, and because St. Bridget made
one her constant companion. In one or two cases our modem
attachment to birds may be traced to some of the Catholic
legends. Everybody in England looks kindly on the robin^
but very few can give a reason why. It may be that it is
viewed as the swallow is, in the light of ^ a scholar of God,'
as the old rhyme says, teaching us the seasons ; but there are
two legends about it which may account for some of the
superstitious reverence entertained for it. The first is,
that God commissioned the robin to carry a drop of water to
the souls of un-baptised infants in hell, and that its breast
was singed in piercing the flames. The other is, that for pure
pity's sake, it strove to pull out the thorns from the crown of
Christ, and hence bears His sacred blood upon its breast to
the present day. Similarly, we may account for the irreverent
way in which the cock was treated in old English sports. It
was far from being what the Lombardy peasant calls the
swallow — ^ the chicken of the Lord ; ' it was a vile bird, the
symbol of Peter's denial, and the fitting sport of Christian
people. As early as the twelfth century cock-fighting was an
English pastime, and continued to be so till the beginning of
the nineteenth. James I. was particularly fond of the sport.
110 Ths Liquor Traffic in
'Cock-throwing' was another cruel English game^ chiefly
practised on Shrove Tuesday. Sir Thomas More, the author of
'Utopia/ was famous for his skill in throwing the ' cock-stick/
The sport was suppressed in 1769. Bear-baiting and bull-
baiting continued much longer. Windham and Canning
defended the Jatter, as did even Sir Robert Peel^ in 1824.
The rise of the theatre in England, as in Rome, was a principal
canse of the suppression of cruel sports, but the gentle lives
of the hermits, and the softened natures of Christian persons^
contributed much to plant within us our present strong
feelings in spite of the interruptions occasioned by military
conquest and the successive revivals of military passion.
Here we must close. Mr. Lecky's last chapter on 'the
Position of Women ' is full of interest, and inspires us with a
hope that he will give us yet other works in which the same
exhaustive research, kindly spirit, and strong common sense
will be shown. It is the only chapter in which a special
aspect of sociology is fully worked out, and it rather makes us
regret that the same plan was not adopted with such topics
as we have used his researches to place in the light of moral
science.
THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC IN RELATION TO LABOUR
AND CAPITAL.
HOW is the material prosperity of the country affected by
the public and almost unrestrained sale of liquors, and
by the consequent drinking habits which prevail to such an
unfortunate and disgraceful extent among the masses of our
fellow-countrymen ? This is the question proposed to be
discussed in the following paragraphs. We shall not hero
dilate upon its importance, because the magnitude and variety
of the interests that are involved in this great social question
will unfold themselves in their natural order, and with inevit-
able precision and effect, as we proceed. It will be seen that
it is a question so deeply concerning the welfare of society, —
even those broad and primary principles which are the ground-
work and foundation of modem society, and so vital to the
character, prosperity, and lasting greatness of our country,
that there can be no subject more worthy of the close investi-
gation and most serious attention of politicians. The statesman
who shall triumph over the difficulties that surround and beset
at every step the satisfactory solution of this great social
problem, and shall cast out the terrible evils tluAt it inflicts
Belaticn to Labour and Capital. Ill
npon the country, will receive the benediction of his own
generation, and, dying, will be enshrined in the blessings of
posterity, —
< And 80 sepulchred in such pomp [shall] lie
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.'
In order to show more clearly how the wide-spread custom
of drinking affects the material progress of the nation, we will
briefly state some of the causes of our prosperity and greatnes?.
It will then be seen that this vice, that has hitherto defied all
the eloquence of the moralist and the utmost authority of the
Eulpit, is weakening the energies and corrupting the very
earths core of our country.
The wealth and prosperity of a nation depend, like those of
an individual, upon three great causes — efficiency of labour,
accumulation of capital, natural agents. These causes are, in
turn, operated upon by other and subordinate causes or in-
fluences. Whatever tends to increase the force and efficacy,
and to quicken the energy and vitality of any of these causes,
must tend, in an eqnal degree, to promote the development of
the national resources, and to accelerate the growth of wealth
and prosperity. And whatever, on the other hand, tends to
weaken or diminish their power, must, in the same degree,
obstruct and diminish the progress of wealth and prosperity.
Now of the numerous subordinate causes or influences con-
ducive to one or other of these tendencies, our subject and
purpose confine us to one, viz., the influence of the liquor
traffic. We shall see how this traffic affects in a multitude of
ways, directly and indirectly, the two first great causes, the
efficiency of labour and the accumulation of capital. We will
first notice its effects upon the efficiency of labour.
It is self-evident that the greater are the strength, the
powers of endurance, the energy, skill, perseverance, and
intelligence which the workman exercises in his employment,
the more effective will be the labour, the more perfect the
result, the more valuable the workman. When the work to
be done requires great physical strength, anything that im-
pairs that strength would be shunned by a prudent workman.
If extraordinary powers of endurance are essential, as in a
campaign, where the soldier must suffer exposure to the
inclemency of the weather, must perform forced marches in a
difficult country, harassed by the enemy, wasted by an in-
hospitable climate, worn out by fatigue, constantly obliged to
confront innumerable hardships and dangers, anything that
would detract from those powers of endurance would be more
fatal, because more sure, than the shots of the enemy.
112 The Liquor Traffic in
Examples can be multiplied without end by everyone. For
there is not a single occupation in life in which the qnalitiea
above-named are not of the greatest use.
The indulgence of immoderate drinking^ which is in-
separable from the present system of the almost unrestrained
sale of intoxicating beverages, carries with it its own punish-
ment in the poverty, ruin, and degradation which lay waste
the house of the drunkard. A shattered constitDtion,
premature old age, moral abasement, bodily and intellectual
debility fill his cup of misery to the brim. The common
experience of every-day life attest the truth of this short
description of the unhappy lot of him who has yielded to the
coarse seductions of the beerhouse. But the sum total of the
wretchedness cannot be ascertained. Yet some idea may be
formed of it from the statistical returns of our cities and
towns. Let any one refer to the local papers of Liverpool :
he will often find as many as two hundred convictions in one
day for ofiences arising from drunkenness. The presiding
magistrates at quarter sessions trace nine-tenths of the
criminal cases that come before them to the door of the public-
house. The testimony of the judges on circuit, both in their
charges to the grand jury and in the more minute criticisms
they afterwards make upon each individual case, is no less
emphatic. Their acuteness, sharpened by long practice, in
siflbing evidence, their high and responsible position, the
dignity of their office, and the renown of their reputation
clothe with irresistible force the solemn and deliberate ex-
pression of their unanimous opinion. The frequenters of the
public-house are either weakened for their work, which
thereby becomes less efficient, or a still greater misfortune
befals them, and they are cut ofi", by a verdict of guilty, from
earning an honourable livelihood. General Havelock strongly
animadverted upon the evil efiects of the soldiers' indulgence
in drink in Cabul. Military inefficiency, military offences,
and the wreck of the most robust constitutions in the army
are notoriously the result of drunkenness and its consequent
debauchery. History truly ascribes to this indulgence the
failure of our first armament in the great American war. The
terrible results of this insane national vice, encouraged by the
fiscal arrangements of the Government, are written, to our
shame, in the imperishable records of the national losses and
public calamities.
But drinking has a far more dangerous and fatal effect. It
enervates the understanding, weakens the powers of the
tnind, dulls the intellect, and quenches the brilliance of the
divine ray of intelligence which, raising man into a different
Relation to Labour and Oapital. Il3
and higher order of being than the rest of the creation, marks
him the noblest work of God, and enlightens and illumines
the soul with a light as superior to the light of the sun as the
spiritual is superior to the material order. It is this degrada-
tion of the sublime part of man that is the greatest curso
attached to drunkenness. What a shock to the order — ^tho
cosmos — of our being I If the creatures of the earth tremblo
in terror when the source of her life and light is partially
eclipsed, how fallen must be the state of that man who sees^
careless and unmoved, the more appalling eclipse of his own
more divine intelligence !
Everyone is aware how invaluable in an economical point of
view is superior intelligence. What a saving in a large
mercantile or manufacturing establishment can often be
effected by one man of a high order of intelligence placed at
the helm I The effects of extensive knowledge, great skilly
and high intelligence, are too familiar to everyone, and too
well appreciated, even by the most uneducated, to require
illustration. They are apparent in the competition of various
nations, where there is a striking contrast to our disadvantage.
Mr. Escher, of Zurich, a large employer of working men of
many different nations, gave the following evidence, which is
annexed to the Poor Law Commissioners' Report, in 1840 :—
* The Italians' quickness of perception is shown in rapidly comprehending anj
new descriptions of labour put into their hands, in a power of quickly compre-
hending the meaning of their employer, of adapting tbemselyes to new circum-
stances, much beyond what any other classes haye. The French workmen hay©
the like natural characteristics, only in a somewhat lower decree. The English,
Swiss, German, and Dutch workmen, we find, haye all much ^ower natural com-
prehension. As workmen only the preference is undoubtedly due to the English ;
oecause, as we find them, they are all trained to special branches, on which they
haye had comparatiyely superior training, and haye concentrated all their thoughts
As men of business or of general usefulness, or as men with whom an employer
would best like to be surrounded, I should, howeyer, decidedly prefer the Saxons
and the Swiss ; but more especially the Saxons, because they haye bad a yery
careful general education, which has extended their capabilities beyond any special
employment, and rendered them fit to take up, after a short preparation, any
employment to which they may be called. If I naye an English workman engaged
in the erection of a steam engine, he will understand that and nothing else ; and
for other circumstances or other branches of mechanics howeyer closely allied, he
will be comparatiyely helpless to adapt himself to all the circumstances that may
arise, to make arrangements for them, and to giye sound adyice or write clear state-
ments and letters on his work in the yarious related branches of mechanics. The
better educated workmen, we find, are distin^ished by superior moral habits iA
eyery respect In the first place they are entirely sober ; they are discreet in their
enjoyments, which are of a more rational and refined kind ; they haye a taste for
much better society, which they approach respectfully, and^ consequentlyy find
much readier admittance to it ; they caltiyate music ; they read ; they enjoy the
pleasures of scenery, and make parties for excursions in the country ; they are
economical, and their economy extends beyond their own purse to the BUkik of
their master ; they are, consequently, honest and truBtwortby.'
Vol. 12.— No. 46. H
114 Ths Liquor Traffic in
In answer to a question respecting the English workmen^ he
8aid:-r
^ < Wbilst in respect to tlie work to which they hare been especially trained they
an the most skiuiil, they are in conduct the most disorderly, debaoched, and
tanily, and least respectable and trustworthy of any nation whatsoever whom wo
ka?e employed ; and in saying this I express the opinion of erery manufactoier
on the continent to whom I hare spoken, and especially of the English manufao-
inrera, who make the loudest complaint. These cnaracteristics of depraritT do not
apply to the English workmen who hare reoeiTed an education^ but attach to tha-
oloerB in the degree in which they are in want of it'
Here is a character of our fellow-countrymen, which, whilst
it passes a well-merited and generously-given eulogium upon
tiie sober and the educated, speaks of the others in terms too
dreadful, but too true, to require comment. The working,
man who spends his money in the public-house cannot have
the money to educate his children. Wherefore it too often
happens that the unfortunate children, demoralised by the
example of their father, follow in his footsteps, a curse to
everyone to whom they ought to be a blessing, a curse to
themselves, their parents, their family, and their country. It
is impossible not to make the reflection that among ell the
nations mentioned by Mr. Escher the English are most
addicted to drinking.
Enough has now been said to make it clear that the liquor
traffic, beinginevitably and inseparably associated with drunken-
ness, is, in the highest degree, prejudicial to, and destructive of,
the efficiency of labour in every path of life — ^whether the
labour be mental or nianual. But even if we had no drunken-
ness ; if every member of the State had his appetite under such
complete and wholesome restraint as never to indulge in
the slightest excess ; still, though moralists were satisfied
with tlus, the statesman and patriot would require something
more. For even then a large consumption of liquors would be
firaught with evil ; it would still be a cup of poison to the
nation, and its effects would not be the less disastrous because
less obvious. They would be seen, and noted, and regretted
by those who break the crust of society, and examine its
interior and hidden strata. Those social explorers would
discover that the mere production of drink is injurious. This
leads us at once to the purely economic results of its manu-
&cture and trade, which, it may be alleged, apparently in its
favour, support a vast amount of labour. The quality of that
labour, however, will pres^ently be discovered. jPor this pur-
pose we must refer to some of the primary principles of
political economy.
The first great principle in connection with labour, is that
Belatton to Labour and OapitaL 115
it does not produce objects^ but utilities. All the labour in
the world, with all the power of man combined, could never
call into being an object. It could never produce material.
All that it can do, and what it does, is to ts^e the objects-—
the materials — ^nature has provided, and, by re-arranging these^
and placing them in new and artificial positions, to cause them
to assume properties l)y which, from having been useless to
us, they become useful. In other words, labour produces,
as the greatest of the French political economists, M. Say,
has aptly termed it, utilities. Like all other species of labour,
that wluch is employed in the liquor traffic is undoubtedly
producing utilities, or rather, were we inclined to be facetious^
we should say inutilities. But is all labour that produces
utilities to be accounted productive ? This is a question, and
a very important one, asked by M. Say and others. The
answer to it will depend upon what is meant by productive
labour. Productive labour, in the language of political
economy and the language of reality, is labour employed in
investing external material things with properties which
render them serviceable to human beings. Now, how do
intoxicating liquors stand the test of this great definition ?
Take beer, for example. Barley and hops are the chief
' external material things ' operated upon. Does the process
of brewing invest these ^external material things with
properties that render them serviceable to human beings ? '
This question has been sufficiently alluded to above ; but for
a further and more lucid exposition upon that particular, read
two short and interesting statements, one by Henry Munro,
M.D., entitled, ^ Alcohol not Food ; ' the other, by J. Mac-
kenzie, M.D., headed, ' Condensed Temperance Facts for
Christians.^ That brewing does not invest the materials for
beer with any ^properties that render them serviceable to
human beings,^ would be quite enough to establish the unpro-
ductive qu^ity of the labour of brewing, without insisting
that the properties of beer are actually unserviceable,
detrimental, and injurious to the welfare of individuals and
society. But at least, it is objected, they produce enjoyment.
Certainly ; such enjoyment as enfeebles and degrades human
nature. What an enjoyment! Is it too great a restraint
upon personal liberty to forbid and prevent, to repress by
strong measures, the enjoyment, which is only another name
for degradation and crime ? It is done ah^ady in (so far as
principle is concerned) analogous cases. There are indul-
gences which it is a grave offence against the criminal law^
as well as against society, to gratifjr. And is there — can
there be a more flagrant offence against society than tli#
116 The Liquor Traffic in
nightly scenes of drunkenness and debauchery which dis-
grace every beerhouse in the kingdom, demoralising the
people, polluting society ? There are, we have said, indul-
gences which we handcuff, notwithstanding the sacred
principle of personal freedom. But there is no indulgence
which so urgently requires strong restraint and repressive
measures as the liquor traffic.
Suppose the indulgence gave solid enjoyment, and, as such^
was beneficial ; still the labour would be unproductive. Mr.
Mill lays it down that ^ all labour is unproductive which ends
in immediate enjoyment, without any increase of the accumu-
lated stock of permanent means of enjoyment.^ If a rich man
lays out a handsome flower garden, or builds a conservatory,
to be stocked with rare and beautiful plants, he derives per-
manent enjoyment from the labour. Or, if a poor man
increases the conveniences and comforts of his home, here,
too, is a source of permanent enjoyment. But where is the
permanent enjoyment of money spent in the public-house ?
What does even the immediate enjoyment consist of but
quarrels, sickness, and headache.? True, Mr. Mill adds, a
little further on, ^ unproductive may be as useful as productive
labour ; it may be more useful, even in point of permanent
advantage.' And when this is the case, no one in his senses
would think of saying a word against it. Mr. Mill continues :
' Or its use may consist only in pleasurable sensation, which
when gone, leaves no trace j or it may not afford even this,
but may be absolute waste. In any case society, or mankind,
grow no richer by it, but poorer/ We will leave it to those
who imbibe freely to describe the ^ pleasurable sensation ' of
drinking ; and proceed to examine whether this species of
nnproductive labour is not ^ absolute waste.'
The last words we quoted from Mr. Mill make it incumbent
upon all unproductive labour to have a strong ground of
defence : — ^ in any case society, or mankind grow no richer
by it, but poorer.' One of the commonest and best defences
is summed up in the proverb, ^ All work and no play makes
Jack a dull boy.' But this is obviously inapplicable to the
public-house ; for when a man leaves it he is less fit for work
than when he entered. We omit from consideration here the
'absolute waste' of the barley; the 'absolute waste' of those
extensive tracts of land that are withdrawn from the cultiva-
tion of wheat in order to grow barley and hops for beer. We
omit these items, although they are not trifles, when we con-
sider that they would employ and feed all the beggars in the
streets ; whereas, instead, they are actually swelling the num-
bers of those very beggars, by indirectly impoverishing the
consumGTB of beer at the public-houses.
Relation to Labour and Capital. 117
The liquor traffic, however, involves a greater source of
poverty to the nation tban the destruction of the prodacta of
the earth. All the labour engaged in the traffic, from the
breweries to the retail shops, is ' absolate waste.' Instead of
produciog that which is the poison of society, it ought to be
Bpinriing and weaving cloth for clothes, making bricks and
building houses fOr the poor. It ought to be engaged in a
thousand different usefiil arts, 'But,' some one suggests,
' does it not often happen that our warebonses are overstocked
with goods, that the mills are slack, that there are already too
many spinners and weavers, too many bricklayers and
masons?' Our mills are sladi, our warehouses overstocked,
because the money that should buy tbe goods for clothes is
spent at the public-house. Bricklayers and masons and
joiners are too numerous, because the savings which should
enable the poor to live in better houses are 'absolutely wasted'
at the beerhouse. ' But,' it is urged again, ' the money has
only changed hands j it is not wasted. It has passed from
the poor man to the publican : an innumerable multitude of
publicans, like the slaves of Egypt, have been constantly
carrying it to the breweries, where they have erected mighty
pyramids of gold — the colossal fortunes of London, Burton-
upon- Trent, and Dublin brewers.' This objection is very
specious. Few writers on political economy are free from it.
It arises from the habit of confounding money with wealth.
Money is not wealth ; it is only the representative of wealth.
We habitually speak of it as wealth, because it will procure
for us a superfluous abundance of the necessaries, comforts,
and luxuries of life, and these are wealth. Coins are merely
the counters of society. But so difficult is it to emancipate
our understandings from the trammels in which they are con-
fined by the perpetual use of customary phrases, that political
economists themselves often write as if money and wealth
were synonymous. It is a plentiful supply of necessaries,
comforts, and luxuries that constitutes wealth. These can
only exist through labour, and the more labour there is em-
ployed in producing them, the more plentiful will they ba,
and the more truly wealthy will be the nation. So that if the
labour that is at present producing beer were producing
something necessary or more naeful, the nation would be so
much the more wealthy. For instance, suppose it were em-
ployed in making clothes or building houses for the lagged,
half-naked, and houseless poor, is it not clear that the nation
would be possessed of a larger aggregate stock of necessarim
and comforts, in other words that it would be richer, than it .'
at present? And this is what would really ha^peu^^^i
118 The LiqtLor Traffic iti .
trade were suppressed^ because the money that is now spent
in the beerhouse— that is, in supporting so much unproductive
labour — would then be placed in the Post OflSce Savings
Bank, to be withdrawn thence to buy clothes, or to enable
the mass of the people to be better housed — that is, in sup-
porting as much productive labour as would make tKe clothes
and the increased house accommodation. Thus the labour
bestowed upon beer is an ^ absolute waste,' a positive loss to
the nation.
It remains to point out the principles which regulate the
amaount of this loss. This may appear very easy; it may bo
thought to lie on the surface. At first sight it would appear
that the amount of the loss is equivalent to the amount of
labour bestowed in the liquor trade. Let us see if this super-
ficial view is correct.
It has been demonstrated by Mr. Mill that capital is
essential to production ; that without it ' no productive
operations beyond the rude and scanty beginnings of primitive
industry are possible ;' that, consequently, ^ industry and pro-
ductions are limited by capital •/ that, ^ while on the one hand
industry is limited by capital, so on the other every increase
of capital gives, or is capable of giving, additional employment
to industry, and this without assignable limit.' These are the
most elementary principles of political economy; they are
some of the fundamental propositions on capital. From them
it follows that a great destruction or loss of capital, such as
often precedes a commercial panic, is not only ruinous to the
individuals whose operations have proved abortive, but is also
a national calamity, inasmuch as it narrows the limits of
industry, and contracts the sphere of labour. Hence a dearth
of employment, labour markets overstocked, the numbers of
the poor increased by multitudes, bad trade, shoals of beg-
gars,— hard times. A reflection upon the nature of capital,
on what it really is, will satisfy all of the truth of these propo-
sitions, and that the disastrous results just alluded to must
inevitably follow when any catastrophe happens to it. To put
it in the simplest form, — it is quite clear that no labour can
be performed without a sufficient stock of food f o keep the
labourer in health and strength whilst he is at work, and
without the necessary tools and implements. These i^jpl©-
ments and food are the saved result of previous labour. Tney
liave been saved, accumulated from past labour to maintain
future labour. This saving or accumulation is capital. So that
vrithout it, it may be a very small, or it may be a very lar^e
<juantity, it is evident no labour is possible. It follows that tne
Jar^er this capital— this accumulated stock of necessaries — ^the
BelaHan to Labour and OapUaU 119
more labour and labonrers it will support. Thus, industry is
limited by capital ; the more capital we have, the more industry
we shall have. Now, this being so, is the labour employed in
the liquor trade the sum total of the national loss ; or is there
an additional loss (to the nation, we mean, for the individual
gains) in the capital sunk in such trade f To answer this,
suppose (any hypothesis is permissible for the purposes of an
argument) that the whole of the liquor trade, including all>
but no more than, the capital and labour therein employed, were
swept from the face of the earth, leaving all other socifd
arrangements in statu quo ; what would follow f Simply this.
Capital and labour, in all other trades, beinff untouched and
undisturbed, would continue to employ and to be employed
exactly as before. But what would the nation lose by the
supposed annihilation of the labour and capital engaged in the
liquor traffic ? It would lose, first, the labour which, had it
not been swept away, would have begun to produce some-
thing useful to mankind; and, second, the capital which,
had it not been annihilated, would have begun to give
employment to other labour. As regards that other employ»-
ment, and particularly productive labour, as regards the
wealth of the nation, the capital and labour laid out in the
liquor traffic are as utterly useless, as completely annihilated^
as in the supposition we have made.
Not only is the capital useless, but the result is still more
aggravated. The large expenditure upon beer, etc., affects
the interests of the labouring classes even beyond the visible
abstraction of money from their pockets. To put this in as
clear a light as possible, we will borrow, and transpose, an
illustration from Mr. MilPs work on political economy. A
consumer may expend his income either in buying services or
commodities. He may employ part of it in hiring spinners>
weavers, and tailors, to make clothes ; or he may expend the
same value in buying spirits and beer. The question is,
whether the difference between these two modes of expending
his income affects the interest of the labouring classes. It is
plain that, in the first of the two cases, he employs labourers
who will be out of employment, or at least out of that
employment, in the opposite case. But those from whom we
differ say that this is of no consequence, because, in buying
spirits and beer, he equally employs labourers, namely, those
who make the spirits and beer. We contend, however, that
in this last case he does not employ labourers, but merely
decides in what kind of work some other person shall employ
them. The consumer does not, with his own frmds, pay to
the labourers in the breweries and distilleries their dvj'fk
J2Q The Liquor Traffic in
wages. He buys the manufactured commodity, whicli has
been produced by labour and capital, the labour not being
paid, nor the capital furnished, by him, but by the brewer.
Suppose that he had been in the habit of expending this por-
tion of his income in hiring spinners, weavers, and tailors, who
laid out the amount of their wages in food and clothings
which were also produced by labour and capital. He, how-
ever, determines to prefer spirits and beer, for which he thus
creates an extra demand. This demand cannot be satisfied
without an extra supply, nor can the supply be produced
without an extra capital. Whence, then, is the capital to come f
There is nothing in the consumer's change of purpose which
makes the capital of the country greater than it was. It
appears, then, that the increased demand for spirits and beer
could not for the present be supplied, were it not that the very
circumstance that gave rise to it has set at liberty a capital of
the exact amount required. The very sum which the con-
sumer now employs in buying spirits and beer, formerly
passed into the hands of spinners, and weavers, and tailors^
who expended it in food and necessaries, which they now
either go without, or squeeze by their competition from the
shares of other labourers. The labour and capital, therefore,
which formerly produced necessaries for the use of these
spinners and weavers, are deprived of their market, and must
look out for other employment ; and they find it in making
spirits and beer for the new demand. We do not mean that
the very same capital and labour which produced the neces-
saries turn themselves to producing the spirits and beer ; but,
in some one or another of a hundred modes, they take the
place of that which does. There was capital in existence to
do one of two things — to make the beer, or to produce
necessaries for the spinners and weavers ; but not to do both.
It was at the option of the consumer which of the two should
happen; and if he chooses the beer, they go without the
necessaries.
For further illustration, let us suppose the same case re-
versed. The consumer has been accustomed to buy beer, but
resolves to discontinue that expense, and to employ the same
annual sum in hiring spinners and weavers. If the common
opinion be correct, this change in the mode of his expenditure
gives no additional employment to labour, but only transfers
employment from the labourers in the breweries and distil-
leries to the spinners and weavers in the mills. On closer
inspection, however, it will be seen that there is an increase
of the total sum applied to the remuneration of labour. The
brewer, supposing him aware of the diminished demand for
Relation to Labour and Capital. 121
•
his commodity, diminislies the production, and sets at liberty
a corresponding portion of the capital employed in the brew-
ing. This capital, thus withdrawn from the maintenance of
the labourers in the brewery, is not the same fund with that
which the customer employs in maintaining spinners and
weavers ; it is a second fund. There are, therefore, two funds
to be employed in the maintenance and remuneration of
labour, where before there was only one. There is not a
transfer of employment from brewers to spinners ; there is a
new employment for spinners, and a transfer of employment
from brewers to some other labourers, most probably those
who produce food and other things which the spinners con-
sume.
In answer to this it is said, that though money laid out in
buying beer, is not capital, it replaces capital ; that though it
does not create a new demand for labour, it is the necessary
means of enabling the existing demand to be kept up. The
funds (it may be said) of the brewer, while locked up in beer,
cannot be directly applied to the maintenance of labour ; they
do not begin to constitute a demand for labour until the beer
is sold, and the capital which made it replaced from the outlay
of the purchaser ; and thus, it may be said, the brewer and
the beer consumer have not two capitals, but only one capital
between them, which, by the act of purchase, the consumer
transfers to the brewer ; and if, instead of buying beer ho
buys labour, he simply transfers this capital elsewhere, ex-
tinguishing as much demand for labour in one quarter as he
creates in another.
The premises of this argument are not denied. To set free
a capital, which would otherwise be locked up in a form useless
for the support of labour, is, no doubt, the same thing to the
interests of labourers as the creation of a new capital. It is
perfectly true that if we expend £1,000 in buying beer, we
enable the brewer to employ £1,000 in the maintenance of
labour, which could not have been so employed while the beer
remained unsold, and if it would have remained unsold for
ever unless we bought it, then by changing our purpose and
hiring spinners instead, we undoubtedly create no new demand
for labour : for while we employ £1,000 for hiring labour on
the one hand, we annihilate for ever £1,000 of the brewer^s
capital on the other. But this is confounding the eflTecta
arising from the mere suddenness of the change with the
effects of the change itself. If, when the buyer ceased to
purchase, the capital employed in making beer for his use
necessarily perished, then his expending the same amount in
hiring spinners would be no creation, but merely a transfer^ of
122 The Liquor Traffic in BelaUon^ 8^c.
employment. The increased employment wliich we contend
is given to labour would not be given unless the capital of
the brewer could be liberated, and would not be given till it
was liberated. But everyone knows that the capital invested
in an employment can be withdrawn from it, if suflScient time
be allowed. If the brewer has previous notice, by not
receiving the usual order, he will have produced £1,000 les^
beer, and an equivalent portion of his capital will have alreadj
been set free. If he had no previous notice, and the article
consequently remains on his hands, the increase of his stock
will induce him next year to suspend or diminish his pro-
duction until the surplus is carried off. When this prooess is
complete the brewer will find himself as rich as before, with
undiminished power of employing labour in general, though a
portion of his capital will now be employed in maintaining
some other kind of it. Until this adjustment has taken place
the demand for labour will be merely changed, not increased;
but as soon as it has taken place, the demand for it is in-
creased. Where there was formerly only one capital em-
ployed in maintaining men to make £1,000 worth of beer, there
is now that same capital employed in making something else^
and £1,000 distributed among spinners and weavers besides.
There are now two capitals employed in remunerating two
sets of labourers ; while before, one of those capitals, that of
the customer, only served as a wheel in the machinery by
which the other capital, that of the brewer, carried on its
employment of labour from year to year.
The above illustration, mostly borrowed verbatim from Mr.
Mill, is of great length ; but its value and conclusiveness, in
reference to the subject we have been discussing, justify its
adaptation and application to that subject. It has shown ns
that there are two distinct capitals locked up in the liquor
traffic; and considering how enormous the sum of these united
capitals must be, is it not probable, remembering the propo-
sition most conclusively proved by Mr. Mill, that ^ every
increase of capital gives, or is capable of giving, additionsd
employment to industry, and this without assignable limit/
that it could give employment to all the unemployed labour in
the country ?
In conclusion, we will notice a superficial, but in some eyes
plausible, remark that is sometimes heard from people who
seem to be devoid of the power of thought. They point to
the magnificent fortunes amassed in the liquor trade, and
ask, how do the brewers grow rich if their trade is a source
of poverty ? As parasites grow fat — they feed upon the body
they impoverish. Again^ they ask — ^is it conceivable that a
Backward Ola/nces — Engla/nd in 1769. 123
trade^ which is the father of those princely fortunes^ should be
disastrous to the State ? We would suggest that, in accord-
ance with the principles enunciated above, these mountains of
wealth represent a loss of a far greater magnitude incurred by
the nation — ^mostly by the labouring classes.
BACKWARD GLANCES— ENGLAND IN 1769.
WHEN Sir Walter Scott prefixed to his novel of Waverley
the secondary title of ' Sixty Years' Since/ he knew that
he had been pourtraying a condition of society in the Highlands
of Scotland which, in the course of two generations, had nearly
melted away. But changes, in many respects as striking, and
of incomparably greater importance, have passed over the
England which talked and toiled, sorrowed and rejoiced, in
1769. The very ground has been interfered with — cleared,
ploughed, canalled, tunnelled, iron-shod — ^to an almost in-
credible extent. Macaulay may have exaggerated when he
asserted our landscape scenery to have become so altered since
the reign of William and Mary, that an Englishman of that
period would no longer be able to recognise the land as that
with which he was then familiar ; yet, although nothing like
this transformation of its physical features has befallen the
soil of England during the century succeeding the year now
under review, enough has taken place to impart a new and
more interesting aspect to extensive portions of our insular
terra Jimia, England was once a corn-exporting country;
now it imports millions of quarters of grain for the use of its
people ; yet the com now grown is twice the produce of a
century ago. Hundreds of Inclosure Acts have laid open vast
spaces to the light and air, the harrow and the husbandman^
thus adding to our national stores of food for man and beast.
Scientific farming had neither name nor being in 1769, with
the exception of the drill-husbandry introduced from Italy by
Mr. Jonah TuU, along with the practice of loosening the soil
around the growing plant; but Mr, Tull's disparagement of
manure involved his other theories in disrepute, and reduced
himself to penury. Mr. Arthur Young was also an experi-
mentalist and critic in high farming, but his personal success
was small, and it was after 1769 that his writings imparted a
sensible stimulus to an improved system of cultivation.
There was not in that year a single society in liii^bbSL^\^3d?rai%
124 Backward Olances-^Bngland in 1769.
for its sole object the encouragement of agricultural reform
(the Bath and West of England Society for the Encouragement
of Agriculture, &c., was founded in 1777); and it could not
be expected that the ' London Society for the Encouragement
of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce^ (established 1753)
should confer many benefits on English husbandry, though
one of its gold medals was awarded in 1769 to Mr. Arthur
Young for discoveries in the process of fattening hogs. There
is a note of a visit paid by George III. in this year to a Farmer
Kennet, of Petersham, in Surrey, who had invented some
improved agricultural implements; and as the King really
loved farming pursuits, he might have used his patronage to
excellent effect had his partiality been united to public zeal
and largeness of thought. It cannot be averred that the
middle of the eighteenth century was lacking in inventive and
enterprising activity ; yet little more had then been done
beyond taking the first feeble steps in that march of scientific
conquest whose trophies are as splendid as they are profuse.
The Society of Arts gave, in 1769, a gold medal to Mr. R. L.
Edgeworth (Miss Maria EdgewortPs father) for various
mechanical contrivances ; and, besides the names of Pringle,
Franklin, Priestley, Banks, Home, &c., there are others of
greater celebrity which pertain to this period, but whose
owners had not yet made the world and posterity their
grateful debtors. James Watt was living, and his improved
steam engine was patented in the January of 1769, but years
had to pass before it was constructed and superseded New-
comen's defective apparatus. Arkwright had not yet put the
spinning machine into working order, nor had Hargreaves
brought his spinning-jenny into play. The author of the first
geological map of Great Britain (W. Smith, LL.D.) was in
his cradle; Dr. Hales had recently died; Cavendish and
Black were prosecuting their researches, but WoUaston and
DaJton wore children, toddling about; and Sir Humphrey
Davy was not born till nine years later. In 1769 the two
Hunters, John and William, were in the vigour of their days^
though they had not attained the zenith of their fame in
surgery and medicine. Adam Smith had published his
' W ealth of Nations ' some years before, but generations had
to come and go before his audience had become suflSciently
wide and influential to give to the principles of political
economy he had enunciated their merited recognition and
application. Newton, whose genius made astronomy a
science, had been dead 41 years ; but it was not till 1773 that
an astronomical treatise fell into the hands of the elder
Herschel, whose discoveries and methods opened up a new
Backward Olancei — England in 1769. 125
era ia the study of the sidereal heavens. Literature did not
oflfer a luxuriant display in 1769. The only work of that
date which has retained its place as a classic is Dr.
Robertson^s ^History of the Emperor Charles V.' Gibbon
had written a few pieces, but had not then put his hand to that
imperial work in which, with astonishing wealth of learning
and grandeur of style, he renders the ' Decline and Fall of
the Roman Empire ' an ever- during monument of the histo-
rian's powers. The true poets were not numerous — William
Whitehead was the Poet Laureate ! — and the masters of the
lyre were generally idle. Young and Churchill were lately
dead; Goldsmith was writing his 'Deserted Village;' Johnson
had abandoned the Muse ; and Gray restricted his poetic efforts
to an Ode at the installation of the Duke of Grafbon, as Chan-
cellor of the University of Cambridge. David Garrick com-
posed a still longer Ode on the Shakespeare Jubilee, celebrated
at Stratford-on-Avon in the September of the year, the
proceedings at which were damped by bad weather, and mer-
cilessly ridiculed by the wits about Town. As good as either
for the object, was an Ode by Dr. (Benjamin) Franklin, on the
^ Triumphs of the Arts,' written in honour of the inauguration,
on the first day of the year, of the Royal Academy, whose
first president. Sir Joshua Reynolds, had been knighted in
1768 as a mark of the Royal appreciation of the fine arts.
That there was at this period, in the higher circles, a growing
love of the beautiful in art, and a sincere desire to promote
its development, may be frankly conceded. It is indisputable
that in every branch of the fine arts (except that department
of painting in which Hogarth, then deceased, reigns un-
rivalled) the hundred years that have followed 1769 have
witnessed an excellence of execution on the part of students,
and an earnestness of admiration on the part of the public,
to which the England of preceding centuries was a stranger.
Poetry will form no exception to this proposition, if a few
names — the very highest — are withdrawn from the comparison.
There remains this to be said of the manners of the times,
that in the most refined classes there was a mixture of
politeness and coarseness seldom now encountered. Mr.
DowdesweU, M.P. for Worcestershire (a Dowdeswell still sits
for West Worcestershire), said in Parliament — ^You have
turned out one for impiety and obscenity. What half dozen
members of this House ever meet over a convivial bottle that
their discourse is entirely free from obscenity, from impiety,
or abuse of Government ? Even in the Cabinet, that pious
reforming society, were the innocent man to throw the first
stone, they would slink out one by one, and leave the culprit
126 Backward Ola/iice$ — England in 1769.
uncondemned/ The tastes of the populace were not more
choice and comely than those of their social superiors. Hard
drinking^ with all its evils, was prevalent among men of high
and low degree, though it is questionable whether women of
good character used intoxicating liquors so freely as many in
even this age of Temperance reform are confidently stated to
be doing. One form of vice, now prohibited by law, was then
officially encouraged — the lottery system. It was customary
for the Government to set up a lottery of its own, for the sake
of the difference of a few hundred thousand pounds sterling it
could thus carry off as gain. In his Budget speech, April
10th, 1769, Lord North, the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
said — ' A lottery being a tax on the willing only, though many
might object to it as an encouragement of gaming, yet he
thought the public would be right to avail themselves of the
folly of mankind, especially as it laid no burthen on the poor;
that lotteries were of various natures, and the more they were
varied the more desirous the public were of running into them.
He thought it good policy not to overstretch them, as that
would be destroying the hen for her eggs ; ' so he proposed to
make a profit of only £180,000, by issuing lottery tickets of
the value of £600,000, at a price which would ensure the
receipt of £780,000.
Brutal sports and brutal language, not yet expelled from
our midst, then abounded to a horrible degree. Education,
in a national sense, was not aspired after ; scarcely conceived
of. Primary instruction was left to 'dame^ teachers and
Erivate schoolmasters ; the Grammar Schools touched a scant-
ng of the population ; and the richer classes had resort to
private tutors and the Universities. There were no National
Schools, no British Schools, no Sunday Schools ; — facts
which have to be slowly pondered before our minds can com-
prehend what an abyss of ignorance was before millions of
English children in the following century, had not a good
Providence and good angels, in the shape of philanthropic
men, risen up as the children's friends. It is difficult to
estimate to what extent religion, in a vital and practical sense,
operated in the society of that period. Where the heads of
families were really pious, it is probable that more attention
was given, than is now the rule, to the religious instruction
and training of children and servants ; but such a regard for
Christian privileges and obligations was too seldom seen.
Bishop Butler had been led thirty years before to compose
his celebrated ^ Analogy of Natural and Bevealed Religion^'
by perceiving the extent to which scepticism had spread
tnrough the educated classes; and in a majority of both
Backward Glances — England in 1769. 127
Establislied and Dissenting churches an icy formalism ruled
the pulpit and the pew. Wesley, Whitfield, and their dis-
ciples— in a word, modem Methodism — sprang up to protest
against both scepticism and formalism, and to bring the God
oi the Bible very near to the souls of men. Writers not in
the least tinged with Methodistic ardour have confessed the
great blessings that were thus showered upon the English
people; and we may undoubtedly refer to this religious
enthusiasm, and its remarkable effects on individual character,
much of the new life and zeal which began to distinguish a
profession of Christianity throughout the kingdom. In 17G9
this movement was in progress, meeting in some quarters with
much opposition ; ana we have our suspicions that to some
other reason than a love of social order must be referred the
conduct of the Mayor of Gloucester in that year, who caused a
Methodist preacher to be whipped out of that city on the alleged
ground of his violent ranting. Popular ignorance, debauchery,
and impiety could not but bring forth a crop of crimes. The
towns swarmed with ruffians, and the waysides were haunted
with footpads. Police arrangements were miserably neg-
lected. Before a select committee of the House of Commons
Sir John Fielding, the Bow-street magistrate, stated as to
Westminster that ' the watch is insufficient, their duty too
hard, and pay too small ; that he has known sergeants in the
Guards employed as watchmen ; that the watchmen are paid
S^d. per night in St. Margaret^s parish, and a gratuity of two
guineas a year, out of which they find their own candles ; that
as they are paid monthly, they borrow their money of a
usurer once a week ; that commissioners of the respective
parishes appoint the beats of their watchmen, without confer-
ring together, which leaves the frontiers of each parish in a
confused state ; for that, where one side of a street lies in one
parish and the other side in another parish, the watchman of
one side cannot lend any assistance to persons on the other
side, other than as a private person, except in cases of felony.'
Sir John traced much of the crime complained of to ' irregular
taverns,' where wine was sold under a licence supplied by
the Stamp-Office commissioners without a magistrates' certi-
ficate. He said, ' the magistrates of Middlesex and West-
minster have long held it to be a rule essential to the public
good rather to diminish than to increase the number of
public-houses.' Mr. Eainsforth, high constable of West-
minster, ascribed many of the robberies to the neglect of the
watchmen, adding, ' I have frequently found seven or eight
watchmen together in an alehouse.' In the City of London
between five and six hundred cases were tried annually at the
128 Backward Olances — England in 1769.
Old Bailey, and undetected offences of evety description were
rife. 'Tyburn tree ' (in 1 769 a gallows of new and stronger con-
struction was put up) was ever and anon hung with human
subjects. Pour or five were sometimes executed at one time;
and the circumstance that reprieves were frequently issued in
the proportion of four to one of executions, for eimUar crimes,
added to the zest with which transgressions of the law were
planned and carried out. In the course of 1769 three men
were consigned to Tyburn, who had been convicted of taking
part in a series of turbulent outbreaks in Spitalfields, for the
purpose of cutting out work from looms of masters and work-
men who refused to comply with their terms. The civil
power being quite unable to cope with these riots, called in
the soldiery. Nor was this resort to military aid unusual.
A disturbance in Drary Lane could not be quelled until a
detachment of the Guards had arrived from the Savoy Bar-
racks. Beggars and vagrants were a prolific race ; but the
poor-rates, which averaged about a million and a-half per
annum, cannot be pronounced excessive, judging by our pre-
sent standard, though then, as now, it was to drinking and
vice that the major portion of the pauperism was really due.
So far as paucity of population may be considered to favour
the absence of pauperism and other social ills, the England of
1769 had a great advantage over the England of 1869. The
inhabitants of England and Wales were then about seven
millions^-one-third of the present number. London and its
suburbs probably included 750,000 souls, but there was not
another city or borough in the British Isles which could
claim 100,000 inhabitants. Bristol, then the second city of
England for wealth, population, and commerce, approached
that number, and Edinburgh followed next. No other city
or borough contained 50,000 persons. Manchester and
Salford united had about 35,000 ; Liverpool a much smaller
number. Birmingham, noted for its smiths in the sixteenth
century, had slowly increased in population and industrial
power. The total cotton trade of this period is estimated to
have fallen short of £250,000 annual value, and the exports of
the great and ancient woollen manufacture were valued at
under eight millions sterling a year. The commerce of the
whole kingdom was a mere fraction of what it has since
become. No electric wire spanned the land ; no steamship
stirred the sea. Internal communication was greatly limited
by the state of the roads and the scarcity of conveyances. In
winter the highways could not be depended upon; and the
cross-roads were little else than quagmires. Mr. Mc. Adam had
not then arisen to give his name to a species of roadmaking^
Backward Olances^^England m 1769. 129
wUch enables carriages to roll easily along in every weather.
Not a railway had pat its iron mark upon the soil ; and the
only canal open in 1769 (began 1755^ finished 1768) was one
from St. Helens to Sandy Brook^ a distance of twelve miles.
The Dake of Bridgewater^s canal of thirty-eight and a-half
miles was then ander constraction — commenced 1737, finished
1776. The packman and the carrier were the only conveyers
of merchandise, and very slowly did they travel. Even the
post was tardy in its movement. It was not till 1784 that
Mr. Palmer^s plans for expediting the transit of the mail bags
were adopted by the reluctant officials, and antil then a letter
posted in London on the Monday afternoon did not arrive
till Wednesday morning or later at Bath, a distance of one
hundred and ten miles. Just before 1769 the privilege of
franking letters had been restricted owing to great abuses,
and the scale of charges being but one penny for a distance
under fifteen miles, and twopence between fifteen and thirty
miles, was an advantage that was afterwards lost till the
Penny Postage reform of January 10th, 1840. In the year
ending April 5th, 1769, tl\e gross receipts of the Post-Office
were (for Great Britain) £305,058, and the charges of manage-
ment £140,298. The gross receipts were £4,630,000 in the
year ending March 31st, 1868.
A hundred years have seen not only a wonderful growth in
the great towns, but an equal improvement in the conditions of
public comfort and health. The antiquated style of building in
populous places was so cramped and crowded, as to be inimical
to freedom of traffic, and to a liberal supply of light and fresh
air. The street and building improvements that have occurred
within living memory indicate what must have been the con-
fined and contracted appearance of the towns a century back.
Nine-tenths of the changes which are now executed at great
expense and toil are simply the undoing of what, in this
respect, our ancestors did amiss. Paving and drainage were
also in a wretched state. It was thought a great thing for
the City of London to have spent £120,000 in several years on
re-paving and new paving. The very centre of the city was
engirdled by a nest of narrow streets. All the three bridges
then in use (Blackfriars was not finished till the end of ] 769)
have been removed and replaced, and many others have been
thrown across the Thames. Sanitary arrangements all over
the kingdom were not worthy of a civilised community. The
cesspool system, or worse, was universal. That which would
have fructified the earth was allowed to taint the air. The
rate of mortality (still unnaturally high) was half as high
again as it now is. In London^ in 1769^ the chriatenin^^
Vol. 12.— jyb. 46. I
ISO Backwa/rd OlanceS'-'Engla/iid in 1769.
were 16,714, the burials 21,847 — (in Paris for the same year
the births were 19,445, and the deaths 18,427) — and it was
not till after nearly thirty years that the births gained upon tho
deaths. With an increased population such as England now
bears, similar insanitary conditions would cause an annual
hayoc appalling to imagine. And if the general population
Buffered from conditions so insalubrious, what was the state
of the prisoners ? Humanity shudders in replying. The gaols
of England were golgothas. It is sufficient to say that
Howard had not then begun those inquiries which have left
his name on the foremost page of his country's benefactors.
The Periodical Press of that time, as compared with the same
literary power in our day, can only be likened to a petty
stream in comparison with the Father of Waters. The Manihly
Review, Critical Review, and Chntleman'a Magazine were the
chief monthlies. The lighter but more polished effusions^
on the Tatter and Spectator model, issued several times a
week, had either ceased to appear, or had lost nearly all their
better features. The daily newspaper press was represented
by the London Daily Post, the London Evening Post, and the
Pvhlic Advertiser, which were smalLin size, dear in price, and
limited in circulation. A sale of 2,000 copies was the
maximum of a daily paper. Not one of the great daily organs
of opinion and intelligence now published had then appeared.
The Morning Chronicle (now extinct) was started towards the
latter end of 1 769 ; but ten years afterwards, the ' getting-up *
of a daily newspaper was such as would now be felt simply
intolerable. Parliamentary reporting, which in 1769 was
hardly known in the case of the daily papers, had advanced so
far in 1779, that summaries were furnished the next day, but
extended debates had to be served up in successive issues.
The London Chronicle, in 1769, was published three times a
week, and consisted of eight pages quarto, and, as appears
from a volume now before us, the advertisements were mixed
up with the other matter, no editorial articles occupied a
distinctive place, and the paper used for printing was of
coarse contexture. Yet the London Chronicle had not a
superior, perhaps not a rival, in the class it represented.
All the English newspapers of that period are estimated to
have had a collective sale of twelve million copies per annum ;
a number which falls short by one-half of the yearly circulation
now enjoyed by more than one London daily journal. From
17t)9, however, may be dated the more conspicuous exhibition
of that political influence which the newspaper now exerts
through its leading articles ; only, that instead of ' leaders ' of
the modem stamp^ the political writing was then executed Ky
Backward GUmce»^^Engla/nd in 1769. 131
contribntors wHo assnmed sncli designations as best soited
their topics or their tastes. The most distingaished of these
was the anonymous writer who adopted the nom de plume of
' Junias/ and whose letters in the Public Advertiser, com-
mencing in the January of 1769^ and appearing at intervals
till 1 772, have retained much of their origmal celebrity. Their
loftiness of aim ill-contrasted with the scurrility and venom
which too frequently disfigured them ; but ^ Junius ' had at
command an amount of secret information, a brilhancy of
style, and a keenness of invective, which drew upon him the
public eye as by . a resistless fascination. He gleamed as a
meteor in the political heavens, scattering not a little of the
terror with which the sight of a bearded comet distracted the
votaries of superstition. The excitement produced by the
feats of this literary swordsman culminated for a time, when^
on the 19th of December, 1769, he charged down upon the
King himself, whom he treated with a boldness that made the
monarch wince, the courtiers curse, and the people shout.
The identity of ' Junius ' with one or other of the notabilities
of that age has been frequently discussed ; but even the most
plausible hypothesis, supported by Lord Macaulay and a host
of critics, has lost ground of late ; and Sir Philip Francis is no
longer so confidently regarded as the viziered knight who
aroused the admiration and baffled the curiosity of contem-
porary observers.
The political situation cannot be described without a
reference to the Sovereign, King George III. On the 1st of
January, 1769, he had worn the crown a little over eight years
(since October, 1760), and was still in the vigour of his early
manhood ; but at thirty-two King George possessed and dis-
played all those characteristics which have made him one of
the best known of English monarchs. He was the first of his
family who had been bom and trained in England, but he had
unfortunately been brought up by his mother in the resolution
to be ^ every inch a king ' — that is, to govern as well as reign.
Tet for governing wisely, either as an absolute or constitutional
ruler, he was altogether unfitted. He was conscientious,
chaste, frank, afifectionate, and faithful — qualities that might
have rendered him beloved and useful in a private station ;
but he was also narrow-minded, prone to prejudice, self-
opinionated to a fault, and vindictively disposed towards those
who opposed his wishes — ^peculiarities which made him one of
the most pernicious of kings. The Whigs had set and kept
his dynasty on the throne; yet because the traditions of
Whiggism did not admit of his personal control over affidrs of
State^ he did his utmost to exclude the Whigs fix>m place and
132 Bachwa/rd OUmciS'^Englcmd in 1769.
power. He was in a measure snccessfiil^ but from tlie first Ii6
was doomed to struggle against principles more powerfolthan
any force of will and royalty lie could array against them. He
set the American colonies on fire^ by asserting in the most
offensive shape his own ideas of the imperial prerogatiye ; and
in the year 1769 he was the scarcely-veiled champion of a
policy^ which^ if carried logically out^ would have made the
Mouse of Commons the altar and sepulchre of the Representa-
tive system. Strange to say^ the man over whom a great
Constitutional battle was to be fought was utterly unworthy
of the honour. John Wilkes was ugly in face^ impure in life^
and selfish in soulj but he was plausible and insinuating-*
even so sturdy a Tory as Dr« Johnson could not resist his
social blandishments ; — and he became the idol of the people
as the object of attacks which imperilled their dearest liberties
and rights. The year 1769 was^ politically-speaking^ a crisis-
epoch. The Government had at its head the Duke of Grafton,
more distinguished by his rank than for abiUty or virtue; and
the really presiding minister was Lord Norths the Chancellor
of the Exchequer^ who pleased the King and Med' the
Commons. There were two Secretaries of State — ^Lord Wey-
mouth and the Earl of Bochford^ with Earl Hillsborough as a
third Secretary for the Colonies. Lord Camden was the
Lord Chancellor. These were the principal members of the
Administration ; but so incohesive were its elements^ that Lord
Camden in a debate^ in the session of 1770^ strongly con-
curred in the denunciations of the Earl of Chatham against
the policy pursued by the ministry in the House of
Commons in regard to the Middlesex election. It is true
he was soon after compelled to resign ; but that so honour-
able and noble a man as Lord Camden felt at liberty,
while holding the Great Seal, to differ from and vote
against the course strenuously upheld by his official col-
leagues, is a proof that executive unity and solidarity were
then much less insisted upon than they are now. The
Duke of Grafton's ministry, indeed, was almost daily expected
to go to pieces, for it was a composite and ill-jointed body.
When formed it had received the apparent support of the
great Earl of Chatham, who, for a time, held the office of Lord
Privy Seal ; but in 1 768-9 he had sunk into a state of poKtical
torpor (the causes of which have never been perfectly cleared
up) ; and from this inactivity he did not emerge till after the
House of Commons — the scene of his senatorial glory as
William Pitt — ^had scandalously invaded that freedom of
election whose surrender he foresaw would leave to English
liberty nothing but the name. And the Parliament so acting
Backward Glances — England in 1769. 138^
was a new one; for in 1768, as in 1868, there was a general
election — ^not, however, in November (as in 1868), bnt in
March. Bribery and cormption, at the earlier date, wei'O
powerful auxiliaries in the contest ; they were far from dis-
carded in the recent one ; and it is a curious coincidence that
as a Justice Willes, in 1769, presided at a trial for alleged
bribery in Cornwall, so, in 1869, another Justice Willes has
been trying election petitions charging similar misconduct on
candidates and their agents.* The Parliament elected in the
March of 1768 did not meet till November 8th, and re-
assembled, after the Christmas holidays, on January 2Sth,
1769. Mr. Wilkes, who had been expelled from the late
Parliament and outlawed, returned fi^m Prance previous to
the general election, and was elected one of the members for
Middlesex, after having failed as a candidate for the City of
London. His old popularity then revived, and he addressed
very large assemblies, one of which, in St. George's Fields, May,
1 768, was fired upon by the military with fatal effect to sevend
persons. Great agitation ensued, which Wilkes, a thorough
demagogue, did his best to inflame by printing a letter, until
then unknown to the public, addressed by Lord Weymouth,
the Secretary of State, to the chairman of the Lambeth
magistrates — Wilkes himself prefacing this letter by violent
remarks, in which he charged the Secretary with having
planned the ' massacre ' in St. George's Fields. When Par-
liament re-assembled. Lord Weymouth indignantly complained
of the libel, and after a conference by delegates between the
two Houses, a resolution was carried in the Commons, Feb-
ruary 8rd, by 219 votes to 137, denouncing Wilkes's charge as
a libel, and expelling him on account of it. The freeholders
of Middlesex re-elected him February 16th ; and next day the
House by 235 votes to 89 declared the election void, and
Wilkes incapable of being elected to serve in that Parliament.
A new writ was issued, but so intense was the feeling on
Wilkes's behalf that no one was found bold enough to propose
the only other candidate, a Mr. Dingley, and Wilkes was
re-elected without opposition on the 13tii of March. The
Commons again pronounced the election void, and ordered a
new one — an opponent to Wilkes coming forward in the
person of Colonel Lutterell, a member, who resigned his seat
* The Justice Willee of 1769, when trring a charge preferred against a Comiah
major of buying eighteen rotes, declared that bribery had reaohM a pitch which
threatened the utter ruin of the natiom, and he ayowed his wish to award the com-
plainant, if possible, the full penalty of £3,000. The \xaj assessed the damages
at £1,000. The judge, we are told, 'sained moc^ honoar and praise in the
county by his behayioor on this oocasion/
134 Bachcard Olcmces — Englcmd in 1769.
in order to contest the county of Middlesex. Two other
candidates appeared^ and at the close of the poll^ April 13Ui,
the votes stood— Wilkes 1,143, Lutterell 296, Whitaker 5,
Roach 0. On April 15th, the House decided by 197 votes to 143
that Colonel Lutterell ought to have been elected, and next
day it decided, by 221 votes to 139, that Colonel Lutterell had
been duly elected, and was entitled to sit and vote, which he
did. The freeholders of Middlesex challenged this decision,
and were heard by counsel at the bar of the House, but on
May 8th, by a vote of 221 against 152, the previous resolutions
were confirmed. In resisting these proceedings, great energy
and eloquence were employed by both wings of the Oppo-
sition— the party attached to Mr. George Grenville, and the
party which adhered to the Marquis of Rockingham, whose
chief spokesman in the Commons was Mr. Edmund Burke ;
but the Ministerialists outvoted the unanswerable orators, and
Wilkes remained excluded. At the general election of 1774
he was again returned for Middlesex, and permitted to
sit, but it was not till after repeated failures, and another
general election, that he was able, on the 3rd of May, 1782,
to persuade the House, by a vote of 115 to 47, to expunge
from its Journals the record of his expulsions in 1 769, accom-
panied by a solemn declaration of the unconstitutionality of
the conduct then pursued. So was concluded a controversy
that should never have been opened, and concluded in the
only way consistent with the liberties of the nation.
On American colonial aflfairs the Parliament and Govern-
ment of 1769 were equally perverse and pertinacious. They
upheld the policy of the last Parliament, which had imposed
revenue duties collected at the colonial ports. These dues
had brought in a paltry £20,000 a year, but the levy of them
revived the animosities laid to rest by the repeal of the Stamp
Act. Both Houses of Parliament, in 1769, passed, by large
majorities, and embodied in addresses to the King, resolutions
condemning the agitation which had broken out in Massa-
chusetts and was extending to the other colonies. This
procedure may be said to have determined all the subsequent
dissensions and disasters, with the eventual separation of the
colonies from the mother country, because it encouraged the
Eang in his arbitrary purposes, and put an impassable bar in
the way of measures of conciliation, uutil conciliation wai
too late to be effectual. After a century's experience
we have improved, in this respect, upon the colonial
statesmanship of 1769. Parliament was prorogued, by
a speech from the Throne, on May 10th ; but the irre-
irievable mischief was done. It was the minority, not the
Backward Olances-^England in 1769. 185
majority, wliich reflected the political liberality and intel-
ligence of the times. Nor was this extraordinary. The
growing middle-class was very imperfectly represented, and
the populace was coarse and brutal. Except in a few places,
such as the City of London, Westminster, and Preston, where
the local franchise was comprehensive, the borough repre-
sentation was in the hands and pockets of titled or wealthy
proprietors. Public spirit, with a few exceptions, had taken
refuge in the counties where the freeholders were independent,
and could afford to despise the frowns of a self-willed
Sovereign, and a subservient House of Lords. County
meetings were held by the freeholders of York, Surrey,
Bucks (a Hampden presiding), Essex, Gloucester, and other
shires, unanimously denouncing the conduct of Government
and Parliament in regard to the Middlesex election, and 7,000
citizens of Westminster met in Westminster Hall with a
similar object. The liverymen of the City of London were
foremost in the struggle, and Alderman Beokford, though old
and worn out, as he said, was elected by them a second time
Lord Mayor, as a special mark of their displeasure against the
Administration and the Court. Open turbulence was not
wanting. A deputation from some of the Government's
friends was assaulted on its way to St. James's Palace, and
the Lord Chamberlain broke his staff of office in resisting the
entrance of the mob. A number of rioters were captured,
most of whom were soon let go, and when the five worst were
sent for trial the grand jury threw out all the bills of indict-
ment against them. Another and severer mortification the
Government experienced on the 10th of November, when a
suit of Wilkes against the Earl of Halifax, late Secretary of
State, was determined. Wilkes claimed £20,000 damages from
the Earl for having issued a warrant under which his desks
were broken into, and his papers abstracted in 1765. At a
previous trial, when the Under-Secretary was defendant, the
system of general warrants was conrlemned as illegal by the
Court of Common Pleas, and on the later occasion a verdict
for £4,000 damages was returned, which, it was said, would
have been much larger had not a Treasury minute come to
light which provided that all expenses arising from this suit
should be defrayed out of the Exchequer. The Irish policy of
the Government had also caused much discontent in the
sister country. In the Parliament (composed entirely of
Protestants) one debate had grown so warm that swords were
drawn ; an important Government bill was thrown out by the
Irish Commons ; and when Sir George Macarteney, son-in-law
of Lord Bute, and Secretary of State for Ireland, informed the
186 Backward Ola/nces — England in 1769.
members tliat 'Ireland was a dependent govemment^ and
owed to England the highest obligations and the free exer-
cise of its invaluable privileges/ we are told that ' the whole
House became turbulent, and it was with diflSculty the Speaker
could bring it to order/ Foreign aflfairs, too, though out-
wardly smooth, did not please the critics of the Government,
who alleged that its supineness had enabled the French to
overrun and subdue Corsica. General Paoli, the Gorsican
patriot, was received with triumph by the people, who would
willingly have fought for his cause against the French.
Speculation, indeed, may well brighten at the thought of
what might have been the eflfect of sending a British fleet to
Corsica, with military aid to the gallant islanders. Then,
perhaps. Napoleon Buonaparte, born on the 15th of Aumst,
1769, would never have been a French subject, nor have
entered the French service, nor have crossed swords at
"Waterloo with the Duke of Wellington, also bom that year.
In one respect the Government of 1769 might seem entitled
to more commendation than their successors. The supplies
voted by Parliament that year were £6,909,003; in this
present year of grace the expenses of our Government will
be ten times as great. But when we take into account that
Ireland is now upon our list, that the population of Great
Britain is thrice as great, and that more than two-fifths of
our annual revenue is absorbed by interest on debts con-
tracted before 1816, we are not disposed so hastily to assign
the palm of economy to the Government of 1769. Taxation
in some points is not so heavy. The 'Annual Register' of
that year quotes from ' a humourous foreigner ' the following
remark : — ' In England, the people are taxed in the morning
for the soap which washes their hands ; at nine, for the coffee,
the tea, and the sugar they use for their breakfast ; at noon,
for the starch which powders their hair; at dinner, for the
salt which savours their meat ; in the evening, for the porter
which cheers their spirits ; all day long, for the light which
enters their windows ; and at night, for the candles that light
them to bed.' No 'humourous foreigner' can now say all this
concerning the taxation to which Britons are subject. From
one burden of guilt we are certainly free — that of contributing
to the support and extension of the slave trade. In 1768 there
had been exported from the Western coast of Africa 144,000
negro slaves, of whom 59,440 were bought by British subjects
at an average price of £15. 9s. We can thank God that that
abomination is no longer to be laid to our charge. The times
have changed when we have to record that Sir Samuel Baker
has now entered the service of the Viceroy of Egypt that ha
Backward OUmce^'^England in 1769. 137
may Help to suppress the slave trade on tlie districts of the
Upper Nile.
Among the obituary notices of 1769 there are none of much
historical interest. In that year there died the Duke of
Dorset, a patron of letters, and, at an old age, David Barclay,
grandson of Robert Barclay, the author of the ' Apology ' for
Quakerism ; and it is added that David Barclay had enjoyed
the singular distinction of receiving at his house in Cheapside
three English kings when visiting the City. A number of
centenarians died in that year, if the entries are correct, which
the late Sir George Comewall Lewis would have denied
severally and altogether ; but a brief account is given of a
man said to have been then living in Aberdeenshire aged
one hundred and twenty-one, 'of the middle size, and
of a ruddy complexion.' His age was certified by an
entry in an old Bible. Had a young man, celebrating
his majority in 1769, been endowed with a longevity equal
to that of this Scottish peasant, he would still be living to
testify, from personal knowledge, of those differences and
events which we have described in outline, and of a rate
of national progress immeasurably greater in the last
century than in any that preceded. It is hardly likely that
the next century will be so fruitful in discoveries and
appliances having to do with material processes and results ;
but in regard to moral and social reforms, there is ample room
for all that wit can devise, that heart can yearn after, and that
will can effect. 'Meliora' is the watchword of all sincere
patriots : — the prophecy of all patriotic bards. The Golden
Age is perpetually before us — ^never attained, but ever sending
us scintillations of the brightness beyond. The Happy Isles
give us glimpses of their shining shores, their purple hills,
and their valleys of emerald green ; and to quicken our pur-
suit they send us breezes rich with the odours of their spicy
groves. This supreme excellence, this absolute felicity, is not
all a dream bom of fancy and the soul. ' In all labour there
is profit ; ' we reap what we sow and while we sow ; and if
our national efforts after health, sobriety, prosperity, intelli-
gence, virtue, and everlasting goodness are proportioned to
the advantages possessed, the 'England yet to be' will
become the heir of a dowry the most glorious in the memory
of Time.
(138)
SOMERSBTSHIEE.
SOMERSET, ' the pleasant land/ as its name signifies, is a
kind of isthmus, connecting the ancient Danmonium
with the rest of England. Twelve hundred and fifty years
ago the Celts were endeavouring to hold their ground against
the Saxons in the sea-bounded, mountain-traversed region we
now call Devon and Cornwall. They were gradually driven
farther and farther back, until the whole country became sub-
ject to Saxon rule. Long before that time, long before Saxon
aid was sought so disastrously against the Picts, Somerset-
shire had become famous in English history. Probably there
is no other county, except metropolitan Middlesex itself,
which has played so important a part in the annals of this
country. Just as its geology presents almost every stratifi-
cation, so its archaeology presents almost every epoch. There
is the Druidical temple of Stanton Drew ; there is the Belgic
city on the high land above Bath ,- there is the Roman camp
of Cadbury ; and there is every kind of Gothic building, from
the Norman abbey at Glastonbury to the richly-decorated
'perpendicular^ towers of Wrington, and all those other
beautiful churches which Henry VII. built out of gratitude to
the men of Somersetshire for their faithful adherence to the
House of Lancaster. It was in Somersetshire, according to
the (not very trustworthy) tradition, that Joseph of Arima-
thaea landed with his companion, Simon Zelotes. The two
Apostles, it is said, disembarked in Bridgwater Bay, and
coming to Weary-all-Hill, which overlooks the modem Glas-
tonbury, St. Joseph planted his staff there in token that he
would rest from his wanderings. Both Apostle and staff
took kindly to the soil. The first brought forth fruit in the
shape of a converted people. The second brought forth flowers
as miraculous as those which budded from Aaron's rod fifteen
hundred years before. There some five hundred years later
in the island valley of Avalon lay King Arthur, wounded to
death, in the victory over his rebel nephew, Modred, at
Launcelot ; and thence his body was carried to the Abbey of
Glastonbury for sepulture. Only a . few miles from that
place a king as noble as Arthur lay hid in -^thelingay —
the Isle of Nobles, which he fortified and whence he sallied
forth, now in the disguise of a harper to learn the plans of
his enemies, and now at the head of his faithful followers to
.surprise and overwhelm them. The modem Athelney ia
the scene of King Alfired's retreat. It was there that
SomerseUhire, 139
the King got chidden by the wife of the neatherd for
spoiling her cakes; — ^the neatherd whom Alfred, remem-
bering his hospitality and forgetting the chiding, per-
suaded to forsake his flocks for books, and to such good
purpose as to become Bishop of Winchester. Seven hundred
years later another king dealt very differently with another
ecclesiastic. Scarcely one of the religious houses in England
was more celebrated than the Abbey of Glastonbury. St.
Patrick and St. Benedict had ruled it as abbots, St. Dunstan
had wrestled there with the Evil One in bodily form. Its fame
increased from century to century, and with its fame its
wealth. In the 16th century the Abbot's household amounted
to 300 persons, and 500 strangers were often entertained
within its walls. They were eating and drinking, and knew
not that the flood was upon them which was to
sweep them away. It was a most destructive delude. Not
Glastonbury only, but five other abbeys, fifteen priones, three
nunneries, one preceptory of knights hospitallers, three
colleges, six hospitals, and many minor houses went down in
Somersetshire alone. But Glastonbury was the crown of them
all. It was a royal morsel worthy of the omnivorous appetite
of Henry. For that reason, because it was a possession well
worth defending, Abbot Whiting refused to surrender it at the
King's command. He learnt very speedily that that command
was not to be trifled with. He was torn from his monastery,
dragged on a hurdle up to the Tor Hill, and was there hanged
and quartered ; his head was afterwards set up over his own
abbey gate, and his limbs were distributed to Bath, Wells,
Hchester, and Bridgwater. The royal spoiler had many imita-
tors. The King had seized the abbey lands, the nobles would
seize the common lands. Bitter were the complaints of the
commoners, and in 1549 Edward VI., by the advice of his uncle
the Duke of Somerset, issued an order to restrain the nobles
and the gentry from enclosing commons and converting them
into pastures and parks, for their own use, to the great injury
of the poor cottagers who depastured cows and geese thereon.
The young king ordered aU such enclosures to be thrown
down, under heavy penalties. This order produced little
effect. The robbers of the poor continued to remove their
neighbours' landmarks until the people rose tumultuously and
broke down the fences. The royal troops were then sent
against the people, and the very men who had wronged them
were entrusted with the task of reducing them to obedience.
In what way one of these. Lord Stourton, did this is told at
great length in Phelps's ' History and Antiquities of Somer-
setshire ; ' suffice it to say here that Lord StOi^rdiorE^ ^^a^
140 Somersetshire^
ffuilty of the foulest treachery and murder, and was justly
hanged at Westminster, with a silken rope. A little later
followed the Sabbatarian controversy, whicn, beginning in an
attempt to put down wakes on the Sunday, led to the promul-
gation of the royal decree, ordering the day to be celebrated
with sports.
During the civil war Somersetshire was the scene of several
important engagements. After the success of the EoyalistB
at Stratton, in Cornwall, May 16, 1643, the victors, reinforced
by a body of cavalry and by the Marquis of Hertford and
ftince Maurice, overran the whole of Devonshire, and then a
great part of Somersetshire. Sir William Waller was sent to
restore the authority of the Parliament. A severe engagement
was fought on Lansdowne Hill, about four miles to the north
of Bath. But though the Royalist General, Sir Beville Gran-
ville, was killed, neither party gained a decisive advantage.
Eight days later Waller was severely defeated near Devizes.
This event was quickly followed by the capture of Bristol,
under Prince Rupert, after a desperate resistance, in which
the assailants lost 500 men. Before long, fortune changed.
The defeat at Naseby was succeeded by a long series of
Royalist disasters. Fairfax was sent into Somersetshire, to
raise the siege of Taunton, then invested by Colonel Gt)ring.
This object was accomplished, and Fairfax also took Bridg-
water, with a thousand officers, gentlemen, and clergy, and
1,500 soldiers. For this victory he returned thanks at
Martock Church on the following Sunday. Next he took
Sherborne and Nunney castles, and then advanced against
Bristol. He spent ten days in preparing for an assault, but
before making it besought Prince Rupert to spare a useless
eflftision of blood by surrender. The Prince desired time
to communicate with the King, but Fairfax would admit of
no delay, and the assault was commenced. The Prince then
surrendered (Sept. 11, 1645), on condition that he and the
garrison should go out with the honours of war. The news
of the capitulation filled the King with dismay, for his
uncle had assured him that he would hold out for four
months. This abortive defence was only less disastrous
than the defeat at Naseby. Four days later Farley Castle,
some six miles from Bath, likewise surrendered, and the
whole of Somersetshire was then subdued to the authority of
the Parliament. Devonshire was next reduced, and the war
in the west terminated with the fall of Exeter, April 9, 1646.
Somersetshire contributed one of the most brilliant and able
commanders to the Commonwealth that England had ever
Somersetshire. 141
Been. William Blake^ wlio raised England^s naval fame to its
highest point, was bom at Bridgwater in 1599.
Unhappily for Somersetshire, it became the scene of a
very memorable tragedy forty years after the victories of
Fairfax. The Western countiy was strongly Protestant.
William of Orange was to experience this when he landed at
Torbay in 1688. Three years before that, an ill-fated Prince
was to make trial of Somersetshire Protestantism. The
Duke of Monmouth, illegitimate son of Charles IE., landed
at Lyme Regis, Dorsetshire, June 11, 1685. He had but a
hundred men with him, yet so popular were both he and the
cause which he represented, that in four days this number
increased twenty-fold. At Taunton he was received with
enthusiasm; and twenty ffirls of high social position presented
him with colours and a Bible. Bridgwater, Wells, and Frome
declared for him ; but after hearing of the defeat of the Duke
of Argyll in Scotland, he thought it prudent to retreat to the
first of those three towns. Thence he advanced suddenly
against the Boyal troops, under Lord Feversham, at Sedge-
moor. At first he threw confusion into their ranks, but being
unsupported by cavalry, Monmouth's force was, after three
hours of desperate fighting, utterly routed, and their leader
was a few days later captured in the disguise of a peasant.
When discovered he was foui^d lying in a ditch, and so broken
down by fatigue, privation, and fear, that on being taken he
burst into tears. His death was followed by the infamous
bloody assize, which was a theme of horror in many a Somer-
setshu'e household for long years afterwards. Li the autumn
Judge Jeffireys, attended by a troop of Col. E^irke's regiment,
called, in bitter irony, 'E^irke's lambs,' opened the assize*
Jefireys visited Winchester, Dorchester, Exeter, Taunton^
Bridgwater, and Bristol. At every place his progress was
marked by blood. But it was chiefly in the Somersetshire towns
that he gave full licence to his lust of carnage. Macaulay
has described the ghastly horrors of that memorable autumn
in his own vivid maimer, but at far too great a length for
quotation. An older writer. Fox, the biographer of James
II., has sketched the same fearful scene in a few vigorous
words. Speaking of Jeffreys, he says :—
* He made all the West an AoeldamA ; some places he quite depopulated, and
nothing was to be seen in them but forsaken wa&s, unlucky gibbets and ghostlj
carcasses. The trees were loaded with quarters, almost as thick as leayes ; the
houses and steeples were ooyered as close with heads, as at other times with crows
and daws ; cauldrons hissing, carcasses boiling, pitch and tar glowiogi blood and
limbs boiliiig, and he, Jeffreys, the great director of it alL'
142 Somersetshire.
This monster boasted tliat lie liad Iiaiiged more traitors tlian
all the judges since the Norman conquest. The lowest
estimate is 320 ; the highest 700. The number of prisoners
whom he transported was 841. These were more wretched
than the others. They were sold into slavery, and had to
endure the horrors of the slave ship. Macaulay says :— >
< More than one-fifth of thoae who were shipped were flung to the tharlEB before
the end of the woja^^e. The human cargoes were stowed close in the holds of
small yessels. So litUe space was allowed that the wretches, many of whom wert
still tormented by unhealed wounds, oould not all lie down si once without lying
on one another. They were neyer suffered to go on deck. The hatchway was
constantly watched by sentinels armed with hangers and blunderbusses, la the
dungeon below all was darkness, stench, lamentation, disease, and death.'
In vain did the saintly Ken plead with the brutal monster
for mercy. There was but one way of obtaining remission
of penalty — ^by bribes absolutely ruinous to those who paid
them. Jefir«ys declared afterwards, when his cruelties were
brought up against him, that he had acted only in accordance
with his master^s instructions. This is possible; but the
delight with which the Judge gloated over the misery that
he caused was thoroughly spontaneous. Is it not strange
that the holy and loving Bishop of Bath and Wells, whose
heart bled as he witnessed these ravages among his flock,
should have felt himself bound to maintain his allegiance to
the man, who as Sovereign, had been responsible for it ? But
it is not for us to complain that Ken joined the non-jurors.
It was while he was living in privacy at Longleat, a pen-
sioner of the Marquis of Bath, that he wrote the ' Morning
and Evening Hymns,' for which, far more than for his resist-
ance to the Declaration of Indulgence, the Church owes him
eternal thanks. There is little more that we need say of
the history of Somersetshire. Bristol, which lies partly in
that county, partly in Gloucestershire, did itself honour by
electing Edmund Burke as M.P., did itself dishonour by the
formidable riots and incendiarism that followed the rejection
of the first Reform Bill.
Many illustrious men have been bom or have lived in this
county. We have already mentioned the most famous of
them, Blake. His contemporary Prynne was bom near Bath,
in 1610. Seven years later Cudworth, one of the greatest
theologians whom the English Church has ever produced,
was born at Aller. Fifteen years later still, a scarcely less
famous, and certainly more read, metaphysician, John Locke,
was born at Wrington. Laud for two years was Bishop of
Bath and Wells ; and afler him a very different man, whom
we have named above, the meek and holy Ken. Henry
Somersetshire, 143
Fielding^ tho novelist^ first saw the light at Sbarpliam Park^
Glastonbuiy^ 1707. This last name recalls many ot&ers
Vhose owners were intimately connected with the chief city
of Somersetshire. Early in the 18th centary there came to
Bath a young man^ Balph Allen by name^ who had only his
wit for his fortune. He was so happy as to win the favour,
of Field Marshal Wade, who gave him his daughter to wife.
The Field Marshal did much more than this. He obtained
for his son-in-law the farming of the cross posts, and so
lucrative was the monopoly that it brought to its lucky holder
£20,000 a year. Allen was a shrewd man, and an enterprising
one. He thought that it would not be wise for the world to
know how large his profits were. So in order both to dis-
guise and to increase them, he opened the free-stone quarries
on Combe Down, to the south of Bath. They were to him a
veritable Ophir. These and his contract enabled him to build
the palace now known as Prior Park. It has been for many
years a college for training Boman Catholic clergy. In
Allen's time it held inmates of a widely different character.
Thither resorted Pope (who wrote in Allen's grounds the
'Essay on Man'), Warburton, Fielding, and many other
men of note. The last we have mentioned put his host into
a novel, and Allen is now perpetuated in the gallery of
British fiction as the Squire AUworthy of ' Tom Jones.' Not
far from Prior Park, in the lovely village of Claverton, in
whose churchyard Allen is buried, there lived for some years,
as rector, Richard Graves, the author of 'The Spiritual
Quixote.' Later in the century Garrick was the bright par-
ticular star of the Bath theatre. It was in Bath that Wolfe,
the conqueror of Quebec, resided before he went to his
victorious death. There, too, Herschel made the observa-
tions which led to the discovery of a new planet. In that
same city dwelt for a time Edmund Burke, and in our own
day lived William Beckford, author of ' Vathek,' and Walter
Savage Lander, author of the ' Imaginary Conversations,'
and at Freshford, six miles from Bath, Sir William Napier
wrote his famous history of the Peninsular war. In that city,
too, less than a quarter of a century ago, resided occasionally
a Frenchman who had rendered himself notorious and ridicu-
lous; while twelve miles off, in a school on the Clifton Downs,
was a beautiful girl of Spanish descent, all unconscious of the
future — that future which would see the Frenchman Emperor,
and herself Empress of France and Queen o{ Fashion. We
must not forget that Somersetshire was for many years the
abode of Coleridge, and Southey, and Hannah More. In the
fitdtfol vale of Taunton, the witty Canon of St. Paul's, Sydney
144 Somersetshire.
Smfth^ lived as a country rector. On the shores of the
Bristol Channel^ where
' Twice a daj the SeTem fillst
The salt sea water pafises b^
And hushes half the babbling Wje,
And makes a murmur in the huls,'
lies he whose memory has been handed down to all time by
the finest threnody in the language— Arthur Henry Hallam.
of the ' In Memoriam/
Somersetshire^ like its neighbour Gloucestershire^ is the
seat of a twin bishopric. The union of Bath and Wells is of
far older date than that of Gloucester and Bristol^ which took
place in our own time. In fact^ Bath was never the seat of a
separate bishopric as Bristol was. The cathedral was always^
from the day that King Ina (704) established the ecclesias-
tical corporation^ until now^ at Wells. The chief church at Bath
belonged not to a capitular but to a monastic body^ and was
an abbey^ not a cathedral. Early in the 12th century^ John
de Yillula was consecrated ^Bishop of Somerset.' Before
entering holy orders he had practised as a physician at Bath.
Subsequently to his consecration^ he took advantage of a royal
ordinance proclaiming that it would be to the honour and
the dignity of the Church if certain sees were removed from
small towns to places of greater note^ and he obtained the union
of the see of Wells with the abbey of Bath^ rebuilt the latter
structure^ and was called Bishop of Bath. Subsequently^ on
many occasions^ there were violent quarrels between the
canons of Wells and the monks of Bath both as to who should
elect the bishop and what title he should bear. Bishop
Bobert, the founder of the present Cathedral at Wells, decided
that he would take his title from both places, that on a
vacancy a certain number of canons and monks should elect
the bishop, the Dean of Wells being the returning officer,
and that the bishop should be enthroned in both churches.
After his death the contention was renewed by the monks of
Bath, who claimed the sole right of election. In consequence
of these disputes the see remained vacant for many years.
We need scarcely say that no such difficulty has occurred
since the Reformation. The crown-appointed Bishop of Bath
and Wells holds both titles. But the first is an empty one.
The abbey at Bath is only a parish church, and its services,
so far from being conducted on the Cathedral type, are
intensely Puritan.
Somersetshire possesses not only the stately Cathedral at
Wells, whose magnificent west front is peopled with more thap
150 statues that Flaxman declares must have been brought
Somersetshire. 145
from Italy; not only romantic Prior Park, of old the residence
of Fielding's ' Squire AUworthy/ now a Roman Catholic
college ; but also an institution to which public attention has
been directed lately by a popular writer, the ' Agapemone/
or ' Abode of Love/ Henry James Prince, the founder of
this institution, was bom in Bath fifty-eight years ago. He
was brought up at first for the medical profession, but
eventually entered holy orders. He was from his youth a
mystic, and studied the writings of the German, Gerhard
Tersteegen. He was appointed to the curacy of Charlinch,
a Somersetshire village among the Polden hills. Soon he
began a species of revivalism not at all to the liking of old
Bishop Law, who put the erratic priest to silence. Prince
went to Sufiblk for a time, and with like result. Bishop
Allen was scandalised no less than his right reverend
brother of Bath and Wells had been. Prince then
openly seceded, together with some of his most ardent fol-
lowers. After lifting up his testimony for awhile in worldly
Brighton he returned to his native county, and at Spaxton^
four miles from Bridgwater, he set up the Abode of Love.
He announced himself as the 'Beloved,' and as such he
exercised autocratic power among his believers. They entered
the Agapenlone, and certain of them, notably three young
spinsters, contributed to it their substance. Then came
scandals. The profane outside the Abode of Love hinted at
something more than madness on the part of those who gave
up their fortunes to Prince, and at very worldly wisdom
on the part of those who profited thereby. There were legal
proceedings. Government inquiries, and abundance of gossip.
But the institution has survived all these — ^has survived
certain revelations of a delicate character, with which we
need not encumber these pages. The Abode of Love still
exists. Whether or not it will survive its founder may fairly
be questioned.
' Somersetshire,' says Mr. Acland, in his prize essay on the
farming of that county, published in the Journal of the Royal
Agricultural Society, 'furnishes examples of almost every
kind of soil, subsoil, and climate found in England.'
* The geology of Somersetshire iDcludes specimens of nearly all the formMions
"which appear on the surface of England from Wales to Norfolk : the graawacke
in the hills of Exmoor and Quantock; the old red sandstone and mountain lime-
stone in Mendip ; the coal measures among the hills near Bath ; the new red sand-
stone and marls in the Yale of Taunton Dean and at the base of many of the
hills ; the lias which bounds the Bridgwater leyel like a sea cliff, or rises out of it
in patches like islands ; the oolite formations extending oyer the sou^ and east of
the county ; the ^reen sand and the chalk which appear in the Chard and Grew-
keme hills and in the table-land between Somerset and Deron ; and, lastly, an
Yol. 12.— No. 46. K
146 Somersetshire.
extensiTe alluTial deposit partly ooyered bj peat and fen land, which filla up the
Bridgwater leyel.*
The following figures will present visibly the social and
economical condition of the county :—
Acres.
Total acreage 1,047,220
All kinds of crops — bare, fallow, and pasture 785,604
Com 141,677
Green crops 70,965
CloTerana artificial grasses 50,350
Permanent pastures, exclusiye of hill pastures 458,688
Proportion of com crops to all kinds of crops, bare and
faUow 19-2
Proportion of com crops to all kinds of crops, bare and
fallow, for all England 83-2
No. of cattle, 173,6fi7, being 236 to 100 acres; 15-4 being this arerage
for all England.
Ko. of sheep, 636,975, being 86*6 to 100 acres; 680 being the aterage
for all England.
In Somersetshire about one person in eight is engaged in
agriculture^ or nearly four and a-half times as many as in Lan-
cashire. Nevertheless, Somersetshire is by no means wholly
agricultural. It possesses both manufactures and mines.
More than 8,000 women and more than 1,100 men are
engaged in the manufacture of gloves, which is carried on
chiefly at and in the neighbourhood of Yeovil. The woollen
cloth manufacture, though less famous than it used to be,
still engages about 3,600 persons. Altogether about 17,000
persons, out of a population of less than half a million, belong
to the manufacturing class. Considering the reputation
acquired by Bath stone, the oolite of which the whole city
of Bath is built, it will excite surprise that the number
of persons engaged in these and the limestone quarries of
Somersetshire is but about 600. The explanation lies in the
fact that all the principal Bath stone quarries lie just outside
the borders of that county, just inside the borders of Wilt-
shire. At the eastern end of the Box Tunnel, on the Great
Western Railway, is the entrance to the largest stone quarry
in the world, whose workings extend for several miles. The
tunnel itself is cut through the oolite, and the ground over-
head is honey-combed with quarries. It is not until the
traveller has crossed a narrow stream, some two miles
to the west of this tunnel, that he enters Somersetshire.
The piercing of that great mass of ooUte, known as Box
Hill, was one of BrunePs greatest feats. It was a most costly
work, so costly that this and the tunnels through the lime-
stone and the red sandstone between Bath and Bristol,
rendered the construction of the twenty-five miles of line be-
tween Chippenham and Bristol as expensive as that of the
SomerseUhire^ 147
ninety-five miles between London and Chippenliam. TI1&
fault, however, was not wholly Bruners. He would have-
taken his railway through the proper channel, by the vale of
Pewsey, past Marlborough, into the vale of the Avon ; but the
then living Marquis of Ailesbury interposed, and oflTered such
opposition that the promoters of the line had to bore through
Box Hill. This short-sighted selfishness on the part of a
great landowner was speedily a cause of regret to him. His
own peculiar borough of Marlborough was ruined. Seeing
that, he attempted to obtain a line which should restore the
fortunes of the place. Having done an irreparable injury to
the promoters of the Great Western by turning them aside
from their proper route, he endeavoured to do them a further
injury by constructing a competing line through the very
district which he had closed against them. The attempt suc-
ceeded, and must be reckoned as one of the causes why this
magnificent railway pays no dividend to its unfortunate share-
holders. It is pleasant to contrast with this conduct that of
another nobleman. Lord Taunton not only oflTered no oppo-
sition to the construction of the Bristol and Exeter railway
through his property, but finding, after a time, that the rail-
way had increased the value of that property, he returned to
the company a very large sum which had been paid him for
compensation.
As Bath stone for the most part comes not from Bath, so
neither do Bath bricks. These are made near Bridgwater,
in a district which, though only about a mile in extent, is the
only place in the world where they are manufactured.
* Thii carious circumstance (says Kurrajr) is owing to a peculiar mixture of
clay and sand, which the flood and ebb tides deposit in turn at these particular
points. The sediment haying been remoyed from the riyer is consolidated by
drying, and cut into oblong masses, which are the Bath bricks, as well known in
China as in England, in Damascus as in London — ^but why so called it ii
difficult to say. The business giyes employment to a great number of persons ;
8,000,000 bricks, yalued from ^£12,000 to jei3,000 being made eyery year.^
Not far from these works are those of the Dunball Company,
for the manufacture of Portland and Roman cement. The coal
district lies chiefly in another part of the county. Radstock
is the centre of it. Prances, Countess of Waldegrave, is the
chief coal-owner, and over five thousand persons are em-
ployed in raising this mineral. The lead mines of Somerset-
shire were once famous, but can now be hardly said to exist.
They were situated in the Mendip Hills, and very curious are
the old laws which governed their working. These date from
Edward IV. In his time Lord Choke was sent to inquire
into divers complaints which had been raised. It was th^x^
148 Scmersetshire.
decreed that any one before breaking gronnd to obtain ore^
must receive permission from the lord of the soil ; but (ao
early was ' fixity of tenure ' sanctioned) when the leave waa
once granted^ it needed not to be asked again. Similarly^
when leave had been given to erect smelting places^ that
leave could not be withdrawn^ so long as the premises were
kept in tenantable repair and a tithe of the produce was paid
in rent. It was also ordered that if any man stole lead to tho
value of one shilling and a penny hal^enny^
* The lord or his officer may arrest all his lead-works, house, and earth, with aU
his groofs and works, to keep them as safely to his own use, and shall take tfaa
persons that hath so oflfended and bring him where his house \b or his works; «iii
all the tools and instruments which to the occupier belongs he useth, and put him
into the said house, and set fire on all together about him, and banish him from
that occupation before the miners for ever. If that person do(^ pick or steal there
any more, he shall be tryed by law, for that law anid oostom hath no mote to dio
with him.'
Every lord was bound to keep two minqps' courts every
year, and swear twelve men of the same occupation^ fbr
redress of misdemeanours touching the minerals. The
lord was permitted to arrest for 'strife between man and
man,' or for his own dues when these were not paid. If any
miner ' by misfortune take his death by earth falling upon
him/ the workmen were bound to dig him out though he
were ' forty fathoms under earth, and the coroner shall not
have to do with him.' The amount of lead raised at West
Chewton was estimated at £100,000. Some enterprising
person noticing that there was an immense quantity of slag
around Priddy Pool, from which the ore had been only
partially extracted, resmelted this refuse, but the price of lead
was so low that, though he obtained a considerable quantity,
he did not profit much. About seventy years ago it was pro-
posed to drive an adit six miles long through the Mendips, and
if this had been done no doubt fresh veins of ore would have
been discovered. But the project was abandoned. This is not
the only great scheme unrealised. About thirty-five years ago
it was proposed to construct a canal from the river Parrett to
Seaton by way of Uminster, Chard, and Axminster. The work
would have been about forty-two miles in length, and its
greatest elevation would have been 226 feet. It was to have
been constructed of such a depth that ships would have been
able to navigate it ; and thus communication would have been
established between the Bristol and the English Channels that
would have saved the long and often dangerous voyage round
the Land's End. The surveys for this work were made, but,
a commercial crisis supervening, the project was abandoned.
AfteT that^ canals gave place to railways. Within the last ten
Somenekkire. 149'
years a line has been constructed wUch connects the two
channels^ but it has not been successful commercially^ and of
course only in a small degree ccurries out the original idea.
In works of reclamation Somersetshire has long been
prominent. An attempt was made by the abbots of Glaston-
bury to drain the great level of Brent Marsh, which lies
between the Mendip hills and Bridgwater Bay. They cut a
caual which reduced to a lake of 500 acres the waters that pre-
viously overspread the lowlands surrounding the abbey. The
dissolution of the abbey was attended here, as elsewhere, by
lamentable results. That change was accomplished ostensibly
out of zeal for religion, really out of personal covetousnesa,
and the great works set on foot by the monks were abandoned
by their successors. Thus the reclaimed land in Brent Marsh
became a bog. After the cessation of the American war in
1783, a general stimulus was given to agriculture, the
attention of the landowners of Somersetshire was directed to
the wastes in the western portion of the county, and an Aek
of Parliament was passed authorising drainage and enclostire.
To carry out these works a sum of £60,000 was levied upon
the proprietors in the district of the river Brue. This work
was so successftiUy completed that application was nkade foir
powers to reclaim Brent Marsh, and this tract was reclaimed
at a cost of £41,000. As far back as the time of James I.,
the draining of Sedgemoor had been in contemplation. That
Sovereign, in fact, claimed the moor in order to effect this
object. The inhabitants opposed the claim, and offered to
surrender 4,000 acres to the King for his experiment. His
death caused the project to fall through. Three hundred years
prior to that, in 1304, the effect of draining in diminishing
ague was pointed out, and an Aot of Parliament was passed
appointing Commissioners of Sellers for the district. At the
present time there are thousands of acres in the great
Bridgwater level capable of being at least doubled in value
by perfect drainage and the subsequent application of mineral
manures.
The word 'moor' is applied in Somersetshire not only
to the marshes which border Bridgwater Bay, and whidh
are in some parts actually below the level of the sea, but also
to the mountainous region bordering Devonshire, and known
as Exmoor. The central part of this district, comprising
about 20,000 acres, formed the ancient Forest oi Exmoor, and
was enclosed by an Act of Parliament passed in 1815. At
that time it was purchased by a Worcestershire gentleman
named Knight, who proposed converting the forest into pasr
tores. His object was better ihaoi the means he '^^k. V:>
150 Somersetahire.
realise it. He lannched out into heavy and useless expenses.
He encircled the whole forest with a ring fence, and com-
menced building a castellated mansion at Simonsbath, which
he was unable to finish, and which soon became a picturesque
ruin. His son and successor, Mr. Frederick &iight, was
more fortunate because more moderate in his ideas. He
called to his assisf^ance Mr. Robert Smith, of Emmet's
Grange, who subsequently became one of the most noted
agriculturists in the West of England. This gentleman saw
that the best way to make this region productive was to form
hill-side catch -meadows; that is, to cut small water courses on
the hill side, from which the stream is allowed to trickle down
over the surface of the ground, and thereby make the ground
yield luxuriant pasturage. Exmoor is famous also for its
ponies and its deer. The value of the first has greatly in-
creased of late years. In 1816 one could be purchased for
under twenty-five shillings. Small as these horses are, they
possess great endurance and are very long lived. Mr. Collyns
in his entertaining ' Notes on the Chase of the Wild Deer,'
mentions that these ponies will keep up with full grown
hunters in a long day's chase, and have the additional advan-
tage of knowing how to get over boggy ground in which their
competitors would flounder and sink. Mr. Collyns has
known the Exmoor pony reach twenty-three years of age.
The wild deer is still to be found in the treeless forest. The
chase of the deer has been carried on uninterruptedly since
the days of Queen Elizabeth, and probably from a much earlier
date. A day's hunt in that region will show how true to
nature are the lines
' As p&nts the hart for cooling Btreams
When heated with the duise.'
Wearied with the long run — ^two dozen miles is no unusual
length — the stag will, if he comes across one of the small
ponds with which Exmoor abounds, plunge into it and
emerge with new life. Scarcely able to stand before, he will
afterwards continue his flight as vigorously as though he had
just commenced it. The discovery of haematite iron on
Exmoor has not yet led to the disappearance of the deer, nor
is it likely to cause the desti*uction of the moorland scenery.
The drive from Lynmouth to Watchet is one of the most
beautiful in England, and the view from the hill looking
down upon Porlock is of surpassing loveliness. The
Quantock hills, though they rise to a considerable height-—
Dunkerry Beacon being 1,668 feet above the sea — ^are
generally more cultivated than Exmoor, and abound with
Somersetshire. 151
woods. Very dififeront from both regions is the Vale of
Taunton, which McCulloch says is the most fertile district in
the kingdom. It rests for the most part on the new red
sandstone formation. Here^ and also on the rich grazing
lands in the neighbourhood of Glastonbury and Cheddar, is
made the famous cheese which takes its name from the last-
mentioned place. This production is not, however, an object
of unmixed satisfaction. The women do nearly all the work.
^ It is a sad sight/ says Mr. Aclaud^ ' to see a man standing
by doing nothing, while his wife or daughter is turning many
times in the day a weight of about half a cwt.' It was at
North Peherton, between Glastonbury and Bruton, that,
what was probably the largest cheese in the world, was made
as a present for the Queen. The same dairy districts are
noted for their clotted cream, which is almost, though not
quite, identical with the better-known Devonshire cream.
We must not leave the agriculture of Somerset without
mentioning the very great benefits conferred upon it by the
Bath and West of England Society. This association owed
its existence to Edmund Back, a literary Quaker, who settled
in Bath in the year 1775. Three years later he published
letters suggesting the formation of an association for the pro-
motion of agriculture and arts, and his suggestion was at once
adopted. For more than seventy years the society had but a
feeble existence, but about twenty years ago a fresh impetus
was given to it chiefly by Somersetshire men. It held yearly
exhibitions and extended its operations from county to county,
until now it has become second in importance only to the
Royal Agricultural Society itself, and covers the whole of the
south and west of England. The yearly volumes of the
society^s 'Journal' are most valuable contributions to agri-
cultural literature.
The traveller through Somersetshire is struck by the
luxuriance of the pastures, the stately timber in the hedge-
rows, and above all by the orchards. These last, if seen early
in May, with their delicate pink blossoms hiding the leaves,
or in September, with their ruddy fruit bending the boughs
well nigh to the ground, are exceedingly beautiful. Unfor-
tunately, the philanthropist cannot gaze on them with the
same enthusiasm which the artist feels. The second does not
know, as the first does, that though the fruit is fair to look
upon, the apple tree is anything but a tree of life. The
produce is converted into cider, and cider is the staple food,
if food it can be called, of the Somersetshire peasant. In
an article upon Devonshire, published in this magazine
two years ago, we described the cider truck system,
152 Somersetshire,
as it prevailed in ttat county. It prevails no less in
West Somerset. The joint authors of the essay on the cider
system, which gained the prize oflfered by Sir VValter Trevel-
yan about a dozen years ago, published some interesting
evidence on this subject from Somersetshire men. Mr. T. D.
Acland, now M.P. for North Devon, says of the practice by
which labourers are paid a portion of their wages in cider :^
' The masters and the men play into each other's hands ; the women and children
suffer ; and the men in the long run. The labourer in a year takes off his master's
hands about two hogsheads of cider, and satisfies one of his bodily appetites at the
cost of fifteen per cent of his earnings. The liquor refreshes and stimulates bins,
but wears him out ; for common cider is not nourishing, but exciting, like spirit
and water. West county labourers will neyer be what they might be as long as
this system goes en.'
Similarly, Lord Portman remarks that 'the masters tak&
an unfair advantage by stimulating the labourer to induce him
to over-exert himself.' Sir Arthur Elton says that ' when the
quantity of cider given is considerable — as, for instance, in
mowing, when a man gets about a shilling a day — there cannot
be a question that a money payment would be preferable/
Mp. R. Walters, of Perticombes Well, South Petherton,
declares that —
' An abundant produce of cider proTes a curse rather than a blessing to the
ower classes of the district, for, when plentiful, the farmers, who depend upon a
crop of apples for payment of a part of their rent, naturally expect the labourers to
mate use of it as part of wages ; and in many instano&s they are compelled to do
80. Their families derive no benefit, and the result is frequently poverty. In
harvest times the case is worse, frequent intoxication distinguishing this period.
Since the scarcity and high price of cider the cider shops have been much less
frequented, and much less disorder and fewer breaches of the peace have occurred.'
Mr. Hansard, surgeon, of Montucute, was, if possible, more
emphatic. He declared that men would frequently in harvest
time drink from eight to twenty pints a day, and, as a conse-
quence, would come home excited, and often fall victims to
serious accidents. Referring to the then existing scarcity of
apples, and consequent deamess of cider, he said : —
* The failure of the apple crop has had the same favourable efiects on the general
health of the labourer as the good drainage of a parish has on the health of the
inhabitants generally ; and in proof of this I may mention the fiouriahing condition
of our Friendly Societies, the money paid to sick members being much less than
UBuaL'
Some of the correspondents who supplied Messrs. Spender
and Isaac with evidence in their essay thought that if the
labourer were not provided with cider by his employer, ho
would go to the cider shop and get it for himself, and would
then be more likely to form habits of drunkenness ; but, as
Mr. Hansard pointed out, the amount that the labourer
Samersetahire. 153
receives as part payment of wages only creates the ttirst for
this drink, and induces him to fireqaent the cider shop.
Clearly, too, the system is in direct antagonism to the prin-
ciples of political economy. If the labourer prefers to have a
portion of his earnings in cider, he ought to be able to buy in
the open market, and not to have forced upon him the
nauseous, and often noxious, trash that the farmers now give
him. As a matter of fact a large number of workmen would
prefer to have their wages entirely in money, and the more
intelligent they are the clearer is their judgment in the matter.
Several years ago certain Somersetshire employers abandoned
the cider truck system, and with the best results. Mr.
Danger, of HuntstUe, for instance, very wisely did not compel
his labourers to work without cider, for this they would have
thought a hardship which would have set them against the
alteration. He left the matter to their own free choice. The
men's wages were raised one shilling and sixpence a week in
lieu of the cider payment, and the men who chose to have the
cider had so much less money. The result was that as a rule,
and especially during the winter months, they preferred the
money.
The social condition of Somersetshire is by no means satis-
factory. Some years ago Mr. Bentley spoke of it as having
fewer schools and a higher rate of crime than any other county
except Northampton. Present statistics would seem to shew
that crime is certainly not on the decrease, although the
offences are perhaps of a somewhat milder type than formerly.
Wages paid to farm labourers are, according to Messrs.
Spender and Isaac's ' Essay on the Agricultural Labourer of
the West of England ' (published in the Journal of the Bath
and West of England Society, for 1858), eight shillings to ten
shillings, with cider, three pints per diem, at from sixpence to
tenpence per gallon. This is a higher rate than prevails in
Devonshire and Dorsetshire; and Canon Girdlestone has
lately incurred much odium from the farmers of Bast Devon-
shire through his efforts to raise the wages of the farm labourer
by emigration. Of late some improvement, sorely needed, has
been effected in the labourer's cottage, and attempts have been
made to establish labourers' boarding-houses, but not with
much success. What Somersetshire chiefly needs is not so
much a semi-eleemosynary grant of money as an investment
of capital on sound commercial principles. M. Leonce de
Lavergne, in his most interesting volume, ' Economic Rurale
de PAngleterre,' was much struck by this fact. He was sur-
prised to find so much suffering among the working classes
of a county which has such important maxket^ ^% ^\^^\»0^ wA
154 BomeraeUhvre.
Bath. He ascribed it to tlie excess of population^ wUch had
increased from 280,000 to 460,000 souls during the fifty years
1801-51, and had led to undue competition for the land. He
held that the only remedy was either an increase of produc-
tion or a decrease of population. Both changes have been
at work to some extent. A portion of the 20,000 acres of
waste land in Exmoor which scandalised him has been
reclaimed, and the population has, like that of nearly all the
agricultural counties, diminished. Between 1811 and 1821
the increase was 17 per cent.; between 1851 and 1861 it
was only 0*2 per cent., which, taking Bristol and Bath.
into account, would imply a considerable reduction in the
purely rural districts. It is not probable that this downward
rate of progress will be checked. There is doubtless plenty
of room for the employment of labour on Exmoor, but the
question ' How will it pay V cannot be answered in such a
manner as to encourage any large investment of capital.
Meanwhile, it is worthy of mention that a few members of
that fast vanishing class, the yeomen who farm their own land^
are still to be found in the neighbourhood of Bridgwater.
Concerning them, Mr. Gabriel Poole of that town writes :—
' It is im possible to say where the gentry end and the jeomen htgxn, NumbeiB
of the tenantry began li/e as labourers ; then took some potato or teasle-ground aI
a high rent, then rented some cows, until they had sayed enough to proyide for
themselyes ; then thej took a field here, and another field uierei tiU thej had
sayed enough to stock a farm ; and then they rent one.'
In that district, although many of the estates are mortgaged^
wages are higher than in other parts of Somersetshire.
At the present time, when education is so prominently
discussed, an article like this would be very incomplete
without some reference to the intellectual status of the
county. The report drawn up by Mr. C. H. Stanton, one of
the assistant commissioners of the Royal Commission on
Middle Glass Education, presents anything but a satisfactory
account. There are fifteen endowed schools in Somersetshire,
but these, as in other counties, have a tendency to cluster
together. Thus, Ilminster, Chard, Crewkerne, Langport,
and Yeovil are all near together, but there is no endowed
school west of Taunton, and none in the great agricultural
district north of Shepton Mallet, and between the Mendip
hills and a line drawn from Bristol to Bath. The education
carried on at these schools is primarily for the upper classes,
and there are a large number of private schools which must
be placed in the same category. The instruction given at
them Mr. Stanton found to be for the most part of the
superficial character with which the report of the Boyal
The OretUms, of Highfiy. 155
Commissioners has made us familiar. The schools for the
lowest class — those supported by the parochial clergy or by
the Nonconformist bodies — are probably as good as others of
the same kind elsewhere. It is in the middle-class schools
that Somersetshire is most wofully deficient. Many of the
farmers will not, some cannot, aflFord £25 a year to send their
sons to a boarding school, or, if they do so, it is only for a
year, in order that their sons may get ' finished.'
'Boys of this description (says Mr. Stanton) I often met with, the earlier
rudiments of their education haying been learnt sometimes from a sort of nnrserj
goyerness where there is a large family, or at the yillage school, or by lessons
from the yillage schoolmaster during the eyening. Such boys I haye seen, and
felt the profoundest sympathy for. Fine strapping fellows * bloused with health
and wind and rain,' are nnequidly yoked witn sharp little boys from the town,
half their age, less than half their size ; where they were sensitiye, as I belicTe was
often the case, exposed to the perpetual mortification of the consciousness of
intellectual infirmity, or when of a blunter feeling, tiiemselyes often doing injury
to those around by the coarser exhibition of mere animal life.'
Altogether, Somersetshire is a county more fair to look at
than really prosperous. It has had a stirring history ; it has
given birth to great men; it presents much physical and
social variety ; but it is by no means among the foremost
counties in manufactures or agriculture, in education or
morals.
THE GRETTONS, OF HIGHFLY.
^ /^WE no man anything,' is perhaps one of the least re-
\J garded of all the Apostolic injunctions. Whether it
has been so in all the centuries of this Christian era, we are
not called upon to decide ; but concerning this enlightened
nineteenth century, we are free to reiterate our assertion that
folks in general too often disregard that portion of Holy Writ
which commands them to keep out of debt.
Our commercial life is so interpenetrated by the credit
system, that it seems impossible that it could ever be brought
to thrive independently of it. And, indeed, it were vain to
anticipate a time when the larger commercial transactions of
nations could be conducted on the 'ready-money' system.
That time will never arrive ; the very conditions of things
preclude the possibility of it. But in minor business trans-
actions, amongst many families, a complete revolution might
gradually be easily brought about ; and what a blessed revo-
lution it would be I ' Nobler modes of life ' ^o\^d. 0^\ak&L
J 56 The Grettons, cf Highfly.
amongst ns^ without waiting for millenmimi bells to usher
them in. How much more honest and honourable the units
composing this great nation, and, consequently, the nation as
a whole, would become I We should have less of that anxiety^
care, and shame abroad which wither up men's energies far
more quickly than the hardest mental or bodily toil ; we should
have less of that mad and shameful struggle to keep up false
appearances ; we should see fewer of those deplorably long
lists of bankrupts' names in our daily papers ; we should have
a few thousands less of that despicable genus, the ^ fast j'oung
man;' we should have lighter hearts around us, and more
peace and happiness in family circles than many thousands of
our bonnie English homes can boast of under the present
state of things.
Next to actual, downright crime, there is nothing like debt
to plant thorns in a man's pillow, and scare sleep from weary
eyes. The imagination of a Dante could not conjure up a
spectre more horribly haunting than this one of debt ; it
clings to a man like his own shadow, and embitters his whold
life, waking and sleeping.
But it must not be supposed that the suffering is all on the
side of the debtor. Indeed, it often happens that the creditor
fares the worst by far. Some folks are so devoid of con-
science and every right feeling, that they would feel nothing
of the ^ incubus of debt,' though they owed money to a thou-
sand men, and had no prospect of ever paying one of them
a penny. Perhaps it would be too much to say that those
who are anxious to pay their debts are the exceptions; but it is
certain that a very large proportion of debtors care nothing
for the inconvenience and trouble to which they put their
creditors, and would never exert themselves to pay at all, did
not a court of justice loom before them in the distance.
Of this class of persons were the Grettons.
Mr. and Mrs. Gretton were highly-respectable, middle-class
people. They were prominent folks in the small town of
Highfly, and were considered by everybody (excepting their
creditors) to be in the height of prosperity. Mr. Gretton
was regarded by his humbler fellow-townsfolk as ' a very fine
man, grand in his way ;' and by those of his own class, ^ of
military appearance, very distingue/ He did not wcm* long
hair and spectacles, as many of his brother professionals did ;
but his light hair was pomatumed and parted behind in ortho-
dox Eotten Eow style, and he displayed a coarse, tawny
beard and moustache, which any ^ fierce hussar ' under the
sun might have envied. Whatever other folks thought, it
was not to he doubted that Mr. Bernard Gretton, as he stalked
The GretUms, of Highfly. 157
througli the streets of Highfly, five feet ten in his creaking
boots^ thought himself a most charming and handsome per-
sonage. He stepped as though he thought it ; he smiled upon
his lady acquaintances as tuough he felt certain that they
thought itj aSj indeed^ many of them did ; for it cannot be
denied that there are numbers of women who never look
beneath a fine exterior for anything to admire in man.
Mrs. Gretton was a worthy spouse of such a specimen ox
humanity as fortune had favoured her with. She was pro-
nounced to be ^ a fine woman.^ She was nearly as tall as her
husband^ ample in her breadth and in her mode of dressings
which gave her a most substantial appearance. She was
always cool and placid in manner; very few things ever ruffled
her ease and comfort. The little troubles which fret other
women to distraction^ broke against her as against a rock,
and spent themselves without disturbing her. Feeling little
herself^ she felt very little for other people. Beggars in the
street solicited alms of her with about as much hope of suc-
cess as they would have had in kneeling at the foot of Nelson's
column^ and begging his stony honour to fiing them a copper.
Placid and heartless, with her cold, dark eyes, and plump,
hard-set face, she held on her way through the world as if it
had been created solely for her benefit ; as if all that other
people had to do was to help to make it as comfortable as
possible for her, and not ruffle or thwart her in the very least.
This woman was the mother of five children : a fine growing
family of two boys and three girls. The eldest was a lad of
twelve years ; the next two were girls. Dieby, the young
hopeful of twelve, attended a ' preparatory school for young
gentlemen;' the two little girls were under the care of a
nursery governess.
Mrs. Gretton was proud of her children, and she foolishly
fostered pride in them. She thoroughly impregnated their
minds with the fact that they were descended from the great
Grettons, of Gretton Hall, Boshshire, and that, consequently,
they were superior to all the people with whom they asso-
ciated in Highfly. If their poor dear papa had had 'his
rights ' (whatever that might mean), he would not now be
dependent on his talents for a living ; he would be on a par
with his relatives, who kept their carriages, and lived in style
becoming an old aristocratic family.
Little Digby was duly inflated by all this, and adopted the
tone of 'our family is far better than yours' to his schoolfellows,
which procured him many a ' licking ' from them that he would
have escaped had he been less arrogant. Schoolboys, as a
rule, have a decided aversion from the young prig who claims
158 The Grettons, o/Highfly.
to be the produce of some snperior olive-tree^ and they peck
at him accordingly.
Geraldine, the eldest girl, was not thus impressed by her
mother's reiterated accounts of their family's former glory and
greatness. She was a simple, loving-hearted child, and more
thoughtful and quiet than girls of ten years of age usually are.
She was very dissatisfied with her family relationships. Her
mother was cold and official in her manner, rather than
maternal; and her father seemed to care for nothing but
their getting on with their studies, that they might appear
accomplished and brilliant in the eyes of the world of Hignfly.
Poor little Geraldine felt that irrepressible heart-yearning
which is part of the sorrowful lot of orphans, and of those
children whose parents withhold from them that love and
sympathy, and tender interest, for which all little hearts are
more or less hungry.
Fortunately for Geraldine, the nursery-governess in whose
charge she was, proved to be one who thoroughly understood
and appreciated the child; and in time Geraldine learned to
carry all her little troubles to Miss Bright, and looked to her
for that advice and comfort which she could not get from her
parents.
Miss Bright was a sensible girl, and she did her best to
cultivate in Geraldine a spirit of love and ardent appreciation
of all that is true and genuine in life, and a contempt for all
that is false and empty and mere show. This was no difficult
task, for Geraldine seemed possessed of an instinctive aversion
from bombast and hollow pretences. There was little fear that
she would lightly tread in her parents' footsteps, in their
' walking in a vain show.'
By the time she had grown to early womanhood, she had
learned enough of their mode of living to harass and distress
her much. She ventured to protest against many things
which appeared to her foolish and sinful. This caused a com-
plete breach between herself and her mother, and she became
the 'henpecked' member of the family. Young Mr. Digby
especially took upon himself to worry her with petty persecu-
tions, of which young men of his stamp are highly capable.
Digby was now twenty years old, but much older than his
years in the ways of the world. His training was bringing
forth fruit, and the result was an empty-headed, vain,
unprincipled youth, with an inordinate love of display, and
with a sense of honour so small that it never interfered with
any of his selfish purposes. He was not without talents of a
certain order, and these he was now exercising under a well-
known architect in the town. But his heart was not in his
The QreUms, ofHighfly. 159
work^ and it was hot to be expected that lie woald ever excel
in it. He was engrossed by those unmanly, enervating pur-
suits which have such a charm for our ' fast young men ; '
billiard-playing, dancing, resorting to frivolous — not to say
vicious — places of amusement, from all which a youth of
sound, healthy tastes would soon turn in distaste and dis-
gust.
His parents thought but little of his moral and mental
growth ; they looked at his outer man, and were highly satis-
fied. Was he not one of the handsomest young fellows in
Highfly ? Did he not look like a young lord in dress and
manner ? Was he not a credit to his family, even its most
aristocratic branches ? Mr. and Mrs. Gretton loftily answered
these questions in the affirmative, and were satisfied.
True, the ^ get-up ' of this fine specimen of British youth
was rather expensive to them, and Mr. Gretton sometimes
ventured to deplore it to his wife ; but she invariably silenced
him with the assurance that it was an inevitable necessity —
that the dear lad must make an appearance in the world, and
be a credit to them ; and what expense was he compared to
some ?
^ If I could aflTord it, I should not say a word, my dear,' was
Mr. Gretton' s rejoinder ; ' I am quite as gratified as you are
to see him what he is, but I must see that he does not go too
far in expenditure. I cannot afford everything, you know.'
^ But you must afford what is requisite, Mr. Gretton. When
Digby becomes estabUshed, he will be a wealthy man, and
whatever debts we may incur for him he will then pay ;
meanwhile, our creditors must be willing to wait. I should
like you to intimate thus much to Hillyer, the tailor, please,
when you pass his way. He has had the impertinence to send
twice for a settlement of the last bill.'
^ When was it delivered ? '
' Only nine months ago, just fancy I ' said Mrs. Gretton,
with a short laugh. ^ Just let him know, Bernard, that we
shall pay it when it is quite convenient to us, and that may
be some time within the next five years ! '
' At the same time, I must forbid Digby getting anything
there or elsewhere without my knowledge and sanction. So
long as these affairs were in your hands, Maria, I was content
to say nothing, though I have had so much difficulty in satis-
fying and keeping quiet our numerous creditors, that I should
have been overwhelmed with anxiety were I a man who per-
mitted such things to fret him. But I cannot entrust Digby
with the powdr to spend as he pleases.'
^ But it is nonsense, my dear, to say that Digby must come
160 Th$ Qreiions, ofHighfly.
to you for every Bhilling^s worth he wants. My childreQ^
with the exception of Geraldine, who is a crochety, niggardly
girl^ take after me; they are children of spirit and taste.
That spirit must not be broken ; it will be the making of
them, Bernard; and that taste must be gratified as far as
possible. Consequently^ you must put no unreasonable fetters
on Digby. Surely you have confidence in his gentlemanly
instincts, which will never let him go far wrong, you may
depend.^
Mr. Gretton silently acquiesced.
' What do you think of Geraldine? ' continued Mrs. Qtetton.
' She is opposing my wish to send her to a London finishing-
Bchool for a year or two — opposing it to the utmost. She
wants to begin teaching music and drawing at once, and she
is only eighteen. Fancy having the Smiths and Robinsons
saying that we put our girl to earning money before she was
out of her teens I And their girls are going to London.
When I insist on carrying out my plans, Gerald^e pleads and
protests, and actually cries about it. I am afraid she is of an
avaricious disposition ; she seems so anxious to get money.'
' She hasn't showed herself very avaricious in other re-
spects,' said Mr. Gretton. ' She is generally very unselfish,
and has been the least expensive of our children hitherto.'
' I attribute that to niggardliness, Bernard. I have heard
of misers wearing their clothes till they dropped off them bit
by bit ; now I really believe Geraldine would do the very
same thing. I never yet bought her anything but she pro-
tested against it, and pronounced it superfluous. She cares
nothing for fashion, and would wear the same clothes till they
were threadbare, without ever thinking of the old fashion of
them, I do believe. She is the only one — I am sorry to say
it, but it is truth — she is the only one of our family who
does not care to keep up its respectability and position. I'll
venture to say she'd go out to-morrow as a nursery governess,
if I'd let her ! I am afraid Miss Bright instilled anything but
proper ideas into her head : then she is naturally low in her
tastes.'
^ No, no ; not low, my dear,' said Mr. Gretton, deprecat-
ingly. ' I think Geraldine is quite refined and lady-like in
her ways, though I grant she is not showy and brilliant, as I
should like to see her.'
^ I maintain that her tastes are decidedly plebeian, and,
surely, that is low,' persisted Mrs. Gretton. ' I am sure she
doesn't take after my family, and it is equally certain that
she can't take after the Grettons, of Gretton Hall.'
^ Just so,' assented Mr. Gretton.
The Qreitans, of Etghfiy. 161
^ Well, what aboat this teaching V aaked Mrs. G.
' I will think about it^ and speak to Geraldine/ was the
reply.
' But you will not agree to it, Bernard ? ^
' Probably not, my dear ; don^t be alarmed.*
Geraldine^s wish to earn money arose from her increasing
knowledge of the state of their family affairs. She was
thoughtful, observant, and conscientious; and as she came to
see that all their family dignity was mere hollow pretence and
wicked hjrpocrisy, and that it was maintained at the sacrifice
of principle, she felt that she must do something in the way
of making a stand for right and honesty. Things came to
her ears which fretted her soul greatly ; she felt persuaded
that a crash and an exposure must inevitably take place ere
long. As she looked at circumstances, and thought upon
them, the wonder to her was that no crash had come hitherto.
But she supposed that as long as the expenditure was con-
ducted by her parents alone, they managed to keep it some-
how under control. Now that Digby was taking upon himself
to manage his own personal expenses, so far as purchasing
was concerned, leaving them to murmur and pay at their con-
venience, it seemed to Geraldino that ruin must follow. For
Digby was showy, extravagant, and unprincipled; and he
lavished upon himself superfluities, at his father's expense,
which were unbecoming in his position, even if he could have
afforded them.
Geraldine little knew what scheming and contriving there
had been in all the past years to keep their heads above the
sea of debt in which they were immersed. But now it ap-
peared to her that notlung could ever possibly set them
straight, unless, indeed, one of her father's grand relatives
should happen to die, and leave them a little fortune. Mrs.
Gretton often spoke of this, and seemed to reckon on it as a
certainty ; but it inspired Geraldine with very little hope.
It frequently came to the girl's knowledge that her parents
were being dunned for money ; and in some instances the
repeated postponement of payments seemed to distress and
harass the creditors; for they owed money to men of all
degrees. Proprietors of large and well-established concerns
could afford to take promises instead of cash from Mr. Gretton
sometimes, without suffering in consequence ; but there were
creditors of lower degree, on whom the repeated delays en-
tailed most distressing inconvenience.
Of this class was a young man who had opened a shop in
Highfly a year or two previously. It was not a large shop ;
but he kept first-class goods in the drapery and outfitting
Vol 12,— JVb. 46. 1
162 The Chretiens, of Hijhfly.
line. He came to Highfly from a large London lionse^ brinff-
in^ with him an excellent character^ and the sayings of eight
or nine years of faithful service. It was quite a nice bit of
capital to begin with ; and he was full of hope that success
would attend his efforts. He was a native of Highfly^ and
when he went to London^ at the age of sixteen^ he left behind
him a widowed mother, and a girlish friend who was destined
to be his wife. Now he had both with him, and a very happy
little family they were. Old Mrs. Saunders and young Mrs.
Saunders agreed beautifully together ; and George Saunders
was strong in his determination that nothing should be want-
ing on his part to make his business successful, and so to
bring prosperity to those dependent on his exertions.
Young Mrs. Saunders threw her heart into his work, and
undertook to serve in the shop herself, and help him in keep-
ing the books, so that he might not incur the expense of an
assistant at first. Saunders issued circulars to the Highfly
matrons, begging their patronage and support, and he had
not to beg in vain ; for those who went to his shop once,
invariably went again and again : they met with such civility
and attention, and were really quite satisfied with the goods
that were proffered them for sale ; there was no puffing-up of
unworthy articles — all were genuine, and cheap, too.
Mrs. Gretton was one of Saunders^s ready patronesses. She
rustled into his little shop with a grand patronising air, and
delighted the obliging shopman by giving him a large order.
She condescended to praise his taste in the selection of his
stock, and promised him that, although she had an account
at Riggems^ (the largest drapers in the town), she would be
able to give him a little support, as she had a large family, and
required many things in that line. She languidly selected a
great pile of articles, not one of which she really needed, and
not one quarter of which she would have bought, if she had
had to pay for them there and then. This is the great evil of
the credit system as practised by families ; it is a temptation
to them to indulge in extravagancies, which a ready-money
purse would peremptorily forbid.
' This will make a beginning to a little account,' said Mrs.
Gretton, as she rose from her chair, which she had occupied
fully an hour. ' If I find nothing to complain of in these
goods, you may depend upon an amount of my patronage, and
my recommendation also.' And amid the thanks of the
elated shopman, she sailed majestically out.
Mr. Digby, too, condescended to favour Saunders with his
patronage. Digby found the shop greatly to his liking.
Shirts, fronts, collars, &c., of new and elaborate make.
Tlio GrettcM, of Bighfly. 163
glorious tieSj and the daintiest Frencli kid gloyes^ took his
fancy immensely^ and caused lum to be one of Saunders's most
frequent customers. These items being constantly added to
Mrs. Gretton's ^ little bill^' increased it to such a lengthy that
it could DO longer be called little — at least Saunders and his
wife did not call it so. When^ at the end of six months^ they
made it out and sent it in^ they were glad to think how
capitally it would help them to meet the bills which would
soon fall due to their London houses.
Of course Mrs. Gretton did not pay. She took not the
slightest notice of the bill. She n^yer did of any bill until it
had been sent in two or three times^ and then she merely
deigned to say it was not quite convenient to settle it at that
particular time^ but she would attend to it shortly.
Saunders suffered by others^ too ; Mrs. Qretton was not the
only matron in Highfly who graciously got into his debt, and
ungraciously neglected to play. And Saunders, being a
beginner, did not like to press thein or compel them to pay,
lest he should offend them, and drive such ready buyers from
his shop.
In the course of a year or two this told unmistakably upon
him. What he had in hand when he decided to come to
Highfly was not sufficient to get him such a stock as he
needed to begin with ; but he was sanguine that his efforts to
please, and strict attention to business, would soon bring him
such a run of success as would enable him to go on capitally.
Vain expectations ! when his supporters were such as Mrs.
Gretton.
One day she sent Geraldine to the shop for some little
things, and Mrs. Saunders served her. The little woman
appeared heavy-eyed and dejected, very different from what
she was when they first began business, Geraldine thought.
Presently Mr. Saunders came up, fidgetting round his wife,
as if ho wanted to say something to Geraldine. At length, he
said, ' You^ll excuse me, miss ; but would you kindly ask
Mrs. Gretton if she could oblige me with a settlement of her
bill this week ? — Even a part of it would do me an immense
service just now. It has run on now rather longer than I feel
I can afford to allow, at present, not having thoroughly
established my business yet. I hope you will excuse my
mentioning it to you, miss ; but sometimes I fear that the
servants don^t deliver my requests to Mrs. Gretton, as I have
called several times within the past year.^
'I will tell mamma what you say,' promised Geraldine,
kindly.
When Mr. Saunders had returned to his desk, l&x%.
164 The Grettons, of Eighfiy,
Saunders ventured to try to tmooth matters, as women will,
by being apologetic and confidential. ^ I am sure, miss, my
husband would not mention payment to one of his debtors
were he not really pushed into a comer for money. Our
business is very good, but it is nearly all credit; if we could
just get in steadily what is owing to us we should have no
anxiety ; but, as it is, we sometimes hardly know which way
to turn. It would oblige us very greatly if you would take
the trouble to lay this before your mamma, though I feel
quite ashamed to trouble you.'
' Don^t mention that,' said Geraldine, touched by the little
woman's anxiety and timidity, ^ a year is a long time for a
tradesman to wait for money.'
^0 it is nearly two years now,' said Mrs. Saunders, ' and
really that is not considered very long, and perhaps we should
not feel it so, either, if we were more established.'
Geraldine felt both ashamed and sorry as she walked home.
It was just at this time that her mother was so desirous that
she should go to London to school. ^ I think mamma must
be insane to wish me to go to school and put her to such
needless expense, when she is obliged to keep these poor
people waiting for money so long,' she said to herself, with a
vehement determination to withstand such an arrangement to
the utmost. ^I will not be adding to the dreadful home
expenses any longer, I will earn money.'
Full of interest and sympathy for Saunders and his wife,
Geraldine gave their request to her mother at once, with
supplementary pleadings of her own. Mrs. Gretton listened
to her unmoved, and, when she had done, quietly said, ' It is
very much like Saunders's impertinence to speak to one of my
children about his bill. I have a mind to say I will withdraw
my support from him. You seem unduly concetned about him.
Miss Gretton. Pray don't agitate yourself : he will be paid
when I find it convenient to send to him.'
^ But consider, mamma, how anxious he is, and how dread-
fully he wants it, and how long it has been owing. He says
even a part of it would be a very great help to him,' said
Geraldine.
' Mind your own business, and let me hear no more of this,'
said Mrs. Gretton, with a sternness that silenced Geraldine.
It so happened that within that very same week, which was
about Michaelmas time, Geraldine was aware of three or four
applications at the house for money. One was from a jeweller
to Master Digby, another was from the tailor, a third from a
milliner for Mrs. Gretton, and each applicant seemed to
The OrettonSy of Highfly. 165
Geraldine like a messenger of evil, threatening the family with
destruction^ A fourth was Mrs. Saunders, who requested to
speak with Geraldine.
Curious and wondering, Geraldine went down to the hall,
to see who might want to speak to her at the hour of nine in
the evening. ' 0, I beg your pardon,^ said Mrs. Saunders,
nervously, and with the same heavy, anxious look in her eyes,
^ but I know you are very kind, and I ran out to the post for my
husband, as he is unwell, and unknown to him I am come to
ask you if you mentioned that to your mamma, miss.
To-morrow is the day my husband has to meet a bill at the
bank. I don't exactly understand about it, but I know that
if it isn't met it will be almost ruin to us ; and he has been so
unfortunate in trying to get some bills in this week. He is
so anxious, that I am dreadfully concerned about him ; and I
thought if I could prevail upon Mrs. Gretton to let us have
thirty or forty pounds to-morrow, it would lift a load of care
from us.'
' Thirty or forty pounds,' said Geraldine ; ^ is it so much ? '
' It is about seventy altogether, miss ; because, you see,
Mr. Digby's bill was reckoned in with it, as your mamma
directed, and his was over twenty.'
' Well, I hope mamma will be able to do something ; I will
speak to her again,' said Geraldine.
And she did speak, but with no success. The only feeling
that moved Mrs. Gretton was indignation at her creditor's
^ impertinence.'
Then Geraldine spoke in secret to Digby, and begged him
not to be getting in debt, and having foolish, extravagant
things. But he only laughed at her, calling her a niggard
and a prude, and one who knew nothing of a young gentle-
man's requirements. ^I must keep up an appearance,' he
said, ' and as I have no cash to do it with, excepting what I
can borrow from generous friends, I must adopt mamma's
plan j and if she doesn't grumble, surely you needn't. Dis-
honourable, did you say ? Ha ! ha I There are diflTerent
notions of honour, and no doubt yours and mine differ.' And
with a twist of his perfumed person, Digby carried himself out
of the room, and so ended the unpalatable conversation. A
few days elapsed, and, to Geraldine's great surprise and
grief, the news reached her that Saunders had become a
bankrupt. ' Ah, I thought he was going a-head too fast for
a young beginner,' said Mrs. Gretton, calmly. But the
thought that now his affairs were in the hands of lawyers, and
that, consequently, it was of no use trying to delay paying
166 The Qrettons, of Highfly.
her bill much longer, did rather move her. ^ When I mxtat I
must/ she said, which meant that now she must .speak to her
husband about it.
Geraldine went out directly to see Mrs. Saunders. She
found the little family of four — husband, wife, the widowed
mother, and a young baby — -together in the gloomy house.
The husband was ill in bed. Geraldine felt somehow guilty
as Mrs. Saunders's pale, tear-stained face met her at the door.
'My family might have prevented this trouble,' thought
Geraldine. And she was wearing at that moment things that
had been bought at that place and never paid for. ^ It is the
last unearned dress that I will ever put on,' said G^r^dine,
with an earnest purpose in her heart.
She went into the desolate home and tried to comfort the
young mother. ' 0, I was so afraid at first, miss, that he
would have to go to prison,' she said with a sob. ' But I
think it will all be cleared up for us, and his character vin-
dicated. I am sure we've lived poor enough to try to make
the business answer, and pay every man his own ; and it will
be seen, when things come to be investigated, that we've
been careful. Our bills and the stock will cover everything,
I'm sure ; but then we shall be left penniless to begin life
over again ; and all my husband's hard-earned savings are
swamped. K we could have got our bills in, I'm sure we
should have gone on and made a good business in time. But
Saunders was too obliging and merciful ; and now this a&ir
has so prostrated him, that I'm afraid he'll never be himself
again. He frets so, you know, miss, to think that he has me
and baby and his mother to bring this trouble upon. But I
don't mind it a bit,' added the brave little woman, ' only for
his sake.'
' Well, in the midst of all your distress, Mrs. Saunders,
you have the solace of knowing that you have been honest
and energetic. This trouble may indeed be called a mis-
fortune, not a fault.'
When Mr. Gretton heard of it, and learned what was
required of him, he spoke more sharply to his wife on the
subject of debt than he had ever done in his life before.
Digby, forsooth, must be accumulating debts now. ' Well, it
will just come to this,' said Mr. Gretton, ' I shall have to run
away.'
'My dear,' said Mrs. Gretton, calmly, 'that is what you
said ages ago, and you are here yet.'
' And . trouble enough I've had to keep here,' he said.
' Such a fight as it has been, with loans, and promissory
notes, and duns innumerable ! Remember, I can never
The QretUma, ^ Bighfiy. 167
endure public eaqposnre in Highfly. A man of my ^Eunilj
would have his spirit utterly broken by public exposure.
Digby is playing fast and free with my name ; I have been
threatened with legal proceedings by Silver^ the jeweller^ this
very day ; and^ to tell you the truths I could turn my pockets
inside out this moment for all that is in them; and there is
none anywhere else^ Pll assert. What do you think of that?
And now^ heroes a demand for seventy pounds for dresffi
Pshaw ! the thing^s ridiculous/
' Seventy pounds for dres&for such a family^ for two years,'
said Mrs. Gretton. 'What is that, I should like to know,
including as it does a deal of Digby^s ? You would not have
him go shabby, Mr. Gretton ? At present he would not dis-
grace a nobleman, and I rejoice to see him so nice in his
personal appearance and manner. You ought to be proud of
your son.'
Mr. Gretton was proud of him, and would sooner, have owed
a large sum of money than have seen his son go about shabby.
Still, in spite of all his vanity and want of principle, Mr,
Gretton was beginning to feel that a check must be put upon
spending, one way or another, or the consequences would be
disastrous. All his life long up to the present moment it
had been only by brazen daring and skilful, dishonourable
manoDuvring that he had kept himself free from the law.
His affairs were in such a complicated condition that the least
exposure would entail immediate and irremediable ruin upon
himself and his family. But he secretly determined on not
suffering exposure. 'When the climax comes I shall run,'
was his decision.
At this juncture Geraldine's appeal to be allowed to get
money by teaching, met with little opposition from him.
Much to her joy, and greatly to Mrs. Gretton's chagrin and
disgust, she got his consent to her going among her friends
in a new character — as a canvasser for pupils. She was more
successful than she had ventured to anticipate. It surprised
her to meet with so much kindness from those of her acquaint-
ances to whom she applied. The fact was, she was greatly
respected for her amiable and humble character, and frank,
unassuming manners. In the course of a fortnight she had
obtained seven pupils ; and it was with a glad heart that she
devoted herself to their improvement.
Through another six months the family struggled on, keep-
ing up their false appearances as usual, visiting and enter-
taining visitors, until at length the crisis came. Mr. Gretton
succeeded in getting from a gentleman of his acquaintan^ee,
named Kepp, a loan of thirty pounds (which he vehe*
168 The GretUms, of Highfly.
mently promised to return during tlie week), and with that
he made off to Liverpool, intending to go to America. But
suspecting and outraged creditors had for some days been
watching his every movement, and the consequence was that
he was laid hold of as he was strutting about the deck of a
steamer smoking his cigar with a bland and careless air ; and
back to Highfly he was escorted, there to be lodged not a little
less ostentatiously than he had been accustomed to be. A
few days sufficed to make his home a complete wreck. Mrs.
Gretton would not, or could not, act in any particular. She
was utterly broken down. If some one had come and borne
her off to the workhouse, it is likely that she would not have
resisted. She dreaded to be seen ; she could not speak to
any one.
The family was turned out of house and home. Happy was
it for them, then, that they had the despised Geraldine to turn
to. She was as brave as a lion, and stood up for them all.
She went out and took two rooms for her mother, herself, and
the younger children. They needed three at least, but it
could not be afforded ; for rent, food, and everything else
would have to be paid for out of her earnings, so they would
have to suffer many a want which they had hitherto never
known.
It so happened that the rooms were the very ones whidi
the Saunderses had occupied when they had to give up their
house and shop. Geraldine had called to see them there ; and
now, knowing that they were in a little cottage of their own,
she at once tried to get the rooms, and succeeded. Saunders
was now serving at Biggem's, and his wife and mother took
in sewing. They hoped to be able to commence business
again in time ; but at present thoy could not see their way
clear.
Geraldine heard with great distress of her father^s last act
of dishonesty, in borrowing money from Mr. Kepp. She very
much respected Mr. and Mrs. Kepp, and had often visited
them in days gone by. They had three children, old enough
to receive instruction in music and drawing from Geraldine,
and she begged to be permitted to teach them, with a view
to offsetting the debt which her father owed. This was
agreed to ; and twice a week Geraldine went there. She had
now almost as many pupils as she could attend to, and thank-
ful, indeed, was she for ' leave to toil.^
When Mrs. Gretton had somewhat aroused herself from the
helpless state in which this turn of affairs had plunged her,
she began to see that, after all, she was no more to be shielded
from the consequences of evil-doing than other folks. She
The GretUms, of Highfly. 169
actually foand herself on a par with the Saunderses and other
' low ' people, who had got themselves into trouble through
being ' a little too fast/ And her husband had actually got
himself into prison like any common debtor ! To think that
one of the high and mighty Grettons should come to this !
Mrs. Gretton began to feel, too, what a treasure Geraldine
was. Poverty made her look upon things with new eyes, and
she now saw that Geraldine was indeed an excellent girl —
brave, self-denying, forgiving, strong to do and suffer for
those dear to her. Mrs. Gretton^s manner became gracious,
gentle, even kind towards her ; and this so inspired Geraldine
with thankfulness, that, notwithstanding their discomforts,
the disgrace attached to their name, and the fact of her
father^ 8 being in prison, she was happier than she had ever
felt in her life before since the careless days of childhood.
For now they were no longer hypocrites, riding the high
horse at the peril of those who regarded them at far more
than their worth ; they were living in genuine honest stylo
now, though in poverty and disgrace, which would be their
lot many a weary year yet.
Digby suffered the most keenly of any of the family. He
would have shared his father^s fate, but for the fact of his
being a minor. Now, however, he was just on the eve of his
twenty-first year, and wbuld henceforth be a responsible
member of society. He found a far more comfortable home
with the gentleman in whose service he was than Geraldine
could have given him. But the young fellow fretted under
his sense of poverty, not because it made him in some degree
dependent upon others, but because it debarred him from
those circles of society in which he had pre-eminently moved.
It mortified him intensely to hear the whispered sneers of
fast companions about his poor and disgraced condition, to
have the cold shoulder turned upon him, to be shut out from
those gay scenes in which he used to take so much delight,
and to be denied those elegant little personal adornments
which he deemed necessary to the make-up of a handsome
young man of family.
The change of circumstances wrought in him no hatred of
the extravagance that had brought them about — ^no manful
determination to redeem the good name of the family by
sturdy honesty and brave effort to become independent of
those who despised toil and poverty. On the contrary, he
fretted in a puny, sentimental spirit, and nothing but stem
necessity would have made him deny himself any of those
superfluities which he had been wont to indulge in. His
unprincipled habits and notions were too deep-rooted t^ \^^
170 The Qrettana, of Eighfly.
OTertnmed by tins storm of adversity^ whicli he did
himself to feel only so £ar as it hurt his vanity.
His pecuniary wants harassed him beyond meaaore. ^I
tdll have money ; I must have money^' he would sometimes
say^ with criminal impatience and desire. No one would
trust him with a shilling's worth of anything now j of coarse
it was not to be expected: and he could neither beg nor
borrow of any of his former friends. The more honourable
among them were disgusted with his want of principle ; the
less honourable did not deem him a desirable acquaintance,
now he had no money.
Digby put forth his hand to evil against his kind employer
and benefactor. He made a dazzling show as of old before
his former companions, much to their surprise; but it was
only for a brief time — ^like the blaze of a meteor, and was suc-
ceeded by deeper darkness than before. The darkness of a
prison followed it ; and this gay young man, whose dishoneBty
was unmistakably largely due to the direful training to
which he had been subjected, this scion of the grand house of
Gretton, found himself, at the age of twenty-two, utterly dis-
graced— condemned to five years' penal servitude for robbing
his employer. The verdict which many a tradesman in High-
fly, smarting for the family's former extravagance, pronounced
upon the young man was, ^ Served him right.'
Meanwhile Geraldine was the only one of the family who
had brought any prosperity and happiness to it as yet. She
kept brave and busy, so that she might minister to the needs
and comforts of her mother and the younger children. The
next daughter, Alice, was now eighteen, and afber considerable
effort Geraldine succeeded in getting a situation as nursery
governess for her. Alice had not Geraldine's unselfish dis-
position, and she went to the situation, not with the hope of
being able to lighten Geraldine's burden in maintaining the
family, but for the sake of getting a better home and seeing
a little change.
Geraldine struggled on without thought of reward; but
reward came as it always does, sooner or later, to those who
walk in integrity, and labour for love. Mrs. Kepp regarded
her not only as the instructor of her children, but as a dear
firiend ; and she invited the young girl to make one in her
happy family circle as often as Geraldine could possibly spare
an evening. On these occasions she frequently met Mrs.
Kepp's brother, Mr. Vemer, who was holding a superior post
in one of the banks. Geraldine greatly enjoyed his society,
and was gratified by his apparent enjoyment of hers ; but she
never permitted herself to think of him as anything but a
The Greitons, of Highfly. 171
friend whom she esteemed and respected. She sometimes
felt very deeply the pain of the stigpna which attached to her
name on her father's and brother's account ; and although no
one could utter a word of reproach against herself, and she
felt herself a lady in spite of her poverty and hard work,
she never imagined that any one in Highfly would be willing
to ally himself with her disgraced family, least of all a man of
Mr. Vomer's position and superior ideas. She did not even
wish it.
^ I can suflTer what I have to bear very well alone,' she would
sometimes say to herself; ^ but I could not bear the thought
of having one whom I loved to suffer with me. It would be
selfish in me to wish any gentleman to stoop to me and take
part of my burden of shame upon his shoulders ; and I never
could marry any but a gentleman.' It is not necessary for
us to explain that Greraldine's idea of a gentleman was not
the common one relating to money and position. Education,
refinement, and goodness were her stiEindards to measure
men by.
It was precisely by the same standards that Mr. Yemer
measured women; and he saw in Geraldine one whom he
could feel proud to call his wife, notwithstanding her reduced
status in society, her poverty, and the disgrace that had fall^a
upon her name. She was not mistaken in fancying that he
enjoyed her society : he enjoyed it heartily, and he felt drawn
towards her as not all the fascinations of the Highfly belles
had ever succeeded in drawing him. This poor, little, brave
girl of twenty-one, acting such a womanly part in the world,
in a happy, self-renouncing spirit, and with staid indepen-
dence, seemed to him as superior to the fashionable Highfly
young ladies who patronised him with their smiles, and prac-
tised their arts upon him, as superior to them all as the violet
is to flaunting poppies. Geraldine did not seek his love;
but he rejoiced to bestow it upon her freely and without
reserve : and he felt honoured by her reciprocation of it.
It was revealed to her just at the right time. It was on
the birthday of one of Mrs. Kepp's children, and a special
gathering of young friends was held, to which the child would
have Oeraldine invited. Geraldine tried to be excused, for
her youngest sister was ill, and she could scarcely bear the
thought of leaving her at night, especially for a festive scene.
But little Master Kepp, whose birthday it was, would take no
denial. Geraldine was a particular favourite of his, and his
party would be incomplete without her. So she went, upon
the condition that she should be allowed to leave early. Of
course dear uncle Vomer was there, too, and when oAk 'oSas^
172 The Grettons, of Highfly.
o'clock Miss Gretton wished the merry party good-bye, he
volunteered to escort her home. Geraldine would almost
rather have gone alone ; for her heart was sick with anxiety
for her darling little sister, and she looked at everything in
life through the medium of that anxiety, and, consequently,
saw everything miserably distorted. She felt that she could
not talk to Mr. Verner. The night was lighted by a full moon,
and though the way home was rather long, she had no girlish
fears of walking it alone. She told Mr. Vomer so, and
earnestly begged him not to leave the party.
'If you have any objection to my going,' he began,
'perhaps '
' Indeed,' inteiTupted Geraldine, ' it is purely on your own
account that I wish you not to go.'
' If that is all, I may tell you that I'm afraid it is as much
on my own account as yours that I wish to go/ he replied^
drawing her gently through the hall, and taking her hand
within his arm directly they got outside. ' I am exercising
a friend's prerogative, you see, without so much as saying
'' By your leave," ' he said, with momentary gaiety.
'Yes, thank you,' said Geraldine, absently; 'pray don't
keep a slow pace on my account,' she added, ' you don't know
how fast I can walk when I like, and I do like this evening :
I am so anxious to get home. I have been thinking of my
little sister all the evening, and I am sure it kept me from
making myself agreeable ; but I really could not help it.'
' I could see you were troubled about something,' said Mr.
Verner, kindly.
' Ah ! I feared it could be seen,' responded Geraldine, ' I
am so sorry. It is not often that I have so little control over
my feelings ; but to-night, in spite of the gaiety, everything
seemed so dark to me. I feel to be losing some of the strength
which has hitherto sustained me so weU for what I have to do
and bear. Possibly it is because I am a little over-tired : I
did not get my sleep last night.'
' Poor child ! ' said Mr. Verner, taking the hand that lay so
softly on his arm, and holding it in a firm pressure, ' I fear
you are doing too much, and taking upon yourself more than
you can bear. I often think of you with much concern. You
must really take more care of yourself. I wish I could lighten
you of some of those cares that press on you too heavily :
could you not bring some of your troubles to me, and let me
help you to bear them ? '
The tone in which he spoke — so earnest and tender — almost
brought tears to Geraldine's eyes; but she smiled at his
request, and said, ' What could you do, Mr. Verner ?'
The QretUms, €f Sighfly. 173
'A great deal, dear Miss Gretton, if you would only give mo
the right/ Then he paused, and they took several steps in
silence.
' Does it not lighten our care to have some one to share
it, — some one to love us more than everybody else on earth,
who will sympathise tenderly with us in every sorrow, and
add to our joy when we are happy ? '
^ I should think so,' answered Geraldine, softly, ' though I
have not had much experience of it since my good governess
left us years ago ; and I don't expect it in the years to come.
Yet I should not say this,' she added, quickly, 'for dear
mamma is now mindful of me ; but I feel I ought not to speak
of anything distressing to her.'
' Geraldine,' said Mr. Vomer, in a very low voice, ' do you
think you could ever come to regard me as that friend above
all earthly friends who would have a right to make you an
especial care, and give you such love as brightens the most
gloomy lot ? Let me say,' he added, rapidly, ' that whether
you will take it or not, it is yours, and must be for ever.'
Geraldine looked up in his face ; the moonlight was upon it,
and she saw that it was earnest, and full of an eagerness which
she had never observed in it before. She withdrew her eyes,
and a deep blush overspread her face. Her feet felt unsteady,
and she put her other hand on his arm, clasping it round,
and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, with
a momentary feeling of perfect rest and satisfaction. She felt
too weary to be demonstrative in word or act, — to appear
flurried or astonished. Yet she was astonished in a quiet way.
He paused a moment as she leaned against him, and said,
anxiously, ' Are you ill ? '
^ No, no,' she replied, drawing him on, but making no other
movement. There were no people near them, and she kept
her head in its new resting-place.
' My darling ! ' he said, tenderly smoothing the soft face
that leaned against him ; ' is this an answer of consent to my
question ? '
' No, don't take it as such,' she replied, lifting her heetd ;
' possibly you have not fully considered what you are doing,
Mr. Verner, and I cannot allow you to commit yourself. Yet
you are not wholly ignorant of the history of our past.'
' I know sufficient to make me sympathise most heartily
with you, and more than that, dear Geraldine, — ^to make me
esteem you above every von^an I ©ver knew, and to love you
with my whole heart. I want to know only one thing more
to make me feel a happiness in your society that I have never
yet enjoyed. Will you tell me,— answer me just one question?'
1 74 The GretUms, of Highfly.
' If I can,' whispered Geraldine.
'You can, — ^you must,' he replied, with an eamestneBS
almost vehement. 'Just this, dear Geraldine; yon know
something of me j we have been often together, and I have
grown to love you very deeply : is this love mutual ? Do
you — can you ever — love me ? '
All that Geraldine had been trying during the past year or
two to consider pure friendship now showed itself to be what
it really was, — love sweeter than life, stronger than death.
Again her head sank against his shoulder, and unwittingly
holding his arm in a closer clasp, she said, very softly, ' May 1
confess it?'
'Yes do, darling.'
' Well, I think I have loved you ever since I knew you,
Mr. Vomer. I do love you. But,' she added, with a start,
'indeed we ought not to be talking thus. Many things im-
peratively forbid it.'
' Nothing shall forbid it, Geraldine. Nothing shall come
between our love, my own darling, — mine from this hour,
Chd-giveUy I am firmly persuaded ; for I have asked you of
Him, and He has blessed me with what I deem the most
precious of His earthly gifts.'
And nothing was permitted to come between them, for
though Geraldine showed him everything connected with
herself and her family in the very worst light, to dissuade him
from incurring any odium or unpleasantness by marrying her,
still he was blind to everything but her own dear self. He
knew her to be blameless and pure with regard to the family-
doings; and 'I am not going to marry the whole family,
Geraldine ; but only you,' said he.
It was a great comfort to Geraldine to have such a friend
during the remainder of the time that she had the responsi-
bility of the family upon her. That was only about a year
from the time that Mr. Verner claimed her as his future wife.
Then Mr. Gretton was released from prison, and he returned to
Highfly, a humbler and a wiser man. He was wishful to leave
the town with his wife and the younger children, and, beginning
life again in a simple, unostentatious way, resume his old
work for their daily bread.
^ No, papa,' urged Geraldine, ^ stay here and vindicate your
character. We have found many kind friends since you have
been absent, and they have learnt to respect us just for what
we are worth in ourselves. There are at least a dozen of my
pupils that I am sure I can get transferred into your hands at
once, and you will soon get more, and be able to have a nice
TAc Qreitons, of Highfly. 175
little house^ and some new furniture ; and 0^ papa ! perhaps
in time^ by practising strict economy at home, you may be able
to give some of your former creditors their due. It would
take time, but I think you might be able to put some by, little
by little, paying for everything as you go along, as we have been
doing since we left our home. God would surely prosper
and bless you in your efforts to do this ; and what a joy and
comfort to the mind it would be to live honestly, if in ever
such a poor way, and owe no man anything but love.
HavenH we sinned enough against God and our fellow-men in
keeping up appearances, and haven't we brought sufficient
and terrible punishment upon ourselves ?'
' Indeed, yes,' said Mr. Gretton. ' In the silence of my
prison I have seen ourselves in our true light. What sinful
years of fraud and hypocrisy we spent ! We have reaped just
as we sowed, and I freely admit that we have suffered most
just retribution. We have been made to feel what we caused
others to feel. But in the future, until my life's end, things
shall be different. You, my good child, Geraldine, are the
only one of the family who stood up for justice and right, yet
you have suffered with the rest, and more than the rest, I fear.
But now you are to be blessed with pure happiness and pros-
perity. This is as it should be, and I thank Gk>d for blessing
you/
Happier days than the family had ever before known now
dawned upon them. They lived in poor and unpretending
style, and Mrs. Gretton become so changed that she defied
fashion as if she were a Quaker ; and they all confessed that
whatever of show, fashion, and luxury they ignored for the
sake of being houest and humble, seemed to be made up to
them in solid comfort and happiness.
^ Dear me ! ' said Mrs. Gretton, one day, as she bustled
about getting tea, her husband sitting on a hard Windsor
chair by the kitchen fire, happier than a king; ^dear me,
Bernard, to think what fools we were in the past years,
struggling to keep up grand appearances at the sacrifice of
peace of mind, honesty, happiness — everything that makes us
now so contented and so respected in our simple, little home !
Depend upon it, Bernard, it is for our highest good and
happiness that the Bible exhorts us to obey the commands,
" Walk honestly," and " Owe no man anything." '
( 176 )
STATISTICAL DATA FOR SOCIAL REFORMBES-
No. II.
BXCISB EECEIPTS FROM INTOXICATING DEINKS.
THE Commissioners of the Inland Bevenue, in their Twelfth Report^ lilelj
issued, deal with the accounts of their department down only to the Sltt of
March, 1868. Surely a little more alacrity is possible, and it would, at all erentiy
be very convenient for those who wish to verify, with the least avoidable delaj, tho
fluxes and ebbings of tlie great commercial streams. It is of no use oomplaming^
we suppose, that the Excise authorities group their statistics acoordiog to the
Budget cycle, and not by the solar year ; but, bearing this difference in mind, we
may extract some useful information from the latest official missive of Somermt
House. Between the gross and net receipts from every species of tax there ia •
considerable margin ; but taking the net receipts of certain articles for the last tea
yean there ib the following result (all the totals having respect to the UnUed
Kingdom) : —
Sugar used
From March 31, To March 31, British Spirits. Malt. by Brewers.
1858 1859 X8,960.196 £5,412,777
1859 1860 9,778,9«0 6,648,881
18G0 1861 9,225,638 6,208,813
1861 1862 9,618,291 6,866.302
1862 1863 9,399,707 5,389,909
1803 1804 9,692,515 6,092,736
1804 1865 10,176,731 6,394,553 ^64,544
1866 1866 10,437,168 6,421,260 10,509
1866 1867 10,855,849 6,816,336 33.294
1867 1868 10,511,630 6,302,419 63,370
The hop duty ceased in 1862, and was replaced by an increased dutj on
brewers' licences. The above table conclusively shows that an increase of duty on
spirits has been followed by an increase in the Excise receipts of upwarda of a
million sterling. The ^at question of the morality of taxation on articles whose
common consumption is pernicious to the State, in a word, social poisons, has
been hotly discussed. To impose a tax on such articles for the sake of raising a
revenue from their use, is indisputably immoral; but to restrict their use lyy
taxation is, so far, a national benefit As the alternative of free trade in them,
taxation is right ; as the alternative of prohibition, it is wrong. Covrper, eightj
years ago, saw and stigmatised the baseness of tlie apology summed up in the
fact — *■ The Excise is fattened with the rich result of all this riot.' The chief
objections to this taxation — (1) that it gives a national sanction to a national
curse ; and (2) that it makes a department of the Government interested in
sustaining a great abuse. — are strictly unanswerable ; yet to abolish taxation, and so
permit unrestricted production and sale, would lead to greater eyils; and there is
no escape from the difficulty but legislation (after due preparation of the publie
mind), which will prevent the influx of such money into the national exchequer,
by permitting the exclusion of the national bane from the channels of commeroisl
traffic and exchange.
LICENCES ISSUED BY THE EXCISE.
The licences of all kinds issued by the Excise in the year ending March 31| 1868,
were 2,428,236 ; and the number of these connected With the manufacture and sale
of intoxicating liquors, with the amount of duty charged, was the following : —
EogUmd. Scotland. Ireland. U. Engdm. Dutyohrgd.
£.
Brewers w 36,371 242 124 36,737 357,597
Dealers in beer 4,363 86 889 6,337 17,661
Do. additional licences to retaU... 2,441 ... 749 3,190 3,516
Staiistical Data far Social Be/armers. 177
England. Scotland. Ireland. U.Eingdm. Duty ohrgd.
Dealers in spirits 4,574 403 502 6,479 57,530
Do. additionallicences to retail... 2,510 ... ... 2,510 7,901
Dealers in wine 3,046 66 134 3,246 34,083
Retailers of beer (publicans) 68,879 351 15,528 84,958 107,956
„ spirits „ 67,698 12,013 15,223 94,934 610,214
Wine „ 32,359 4,487 5,690 42,486 93,699
„ beer and cyder (not
publicans) 63,227 967 ... 64,192 162,664
„ wine (to be consumed
off the premises)... 2,424 1,991 134 4,646 10,471
„ beer, &o., on board
packet boats 214 96 62 362 380
„ spirits (grocers) Irld. ... ... 387 387 4,140
Distillers and rectifiers U7 128 62 307 3,223
Malsters 6,087 464 146 6,696 15,885
Malt roasters and dealers in
roasted malt 23 2 8 33 530
Refreshment houses 6,106 ... 77 6,183 6,024
Do. selling wine 2,591 ... 18 2,609 9,728
Sweats, makers and dealers 91 18 14 123 646
m^^^^l^^^m^ a^M^^^Bia^iM* ^■■M^^.^.M.M M^>i^— ■■^^■^ ^1^^^^^^.^-^^^
292,121 21,513 39,636 353,270 iCl,582,838
It must not be rashly inferred that these 863,270 licences represent that number
of licencees or licensed shops. Many of the Ucencees hold two or three licences,
and the number of liquor sellers, and of shops for sale, was stated in Meliora for
April. The tea dealers of the United Kingdom numbered in the same year
177,712, of whom 72,914 resided in houses rated at less than £S per annum, llie
produce of licences from this source was ;C69,59l. The manufacturers of tobaooo
were 581, and the dealers in tobacco 279,716, whose fees amounted to £73,425.
Under the head of * tobacco,' in the Appendix, a table is given showing that tlie
consumption of tobacco in this country continues to increase : —
Founds weight Average
Population of cleared for coDtumption
Year. U. Kingdom. cooaumptioD. per bead.
lb. oz.
1841 26,700,000 23,096,281 0 i;
1851 27,347,000 27,734,786 1 Oj
1861 28,887,000 35,413,846 1
1867 30,145,000 41,053,612 1
That the consumption of tobacco has nearly doubled in twenty-six years is not
an omen for good. Either the number of smokers has greatly increased, or the
lovers of the pipe and cigar are now more ardently addicted to their use than they
were in 1841 ; and more 'cloud-blowing,' whatever be the cause, will not tend to
clear the intellects or s^ eeten the breath of the men who are, or are to be. Women
have not yet taken to smokine as they did to snuffing in the last century ; and who
does not hope that this method of competing with the masculine gender, and of
extending the domain of woman's rights, will long continue unused by the softer
and (as to this particular practice) the wiser sex ?
MAGISTERIAL REDUCTION OF LICENCES.
It may be laid down as axiomatic, that no reform of the licensing system which
does not provide for a large reduction of licences can claim to answer to its name.
There is an inveterate tendency amone licensing magistrates to avoid interfering
with ' rights of property,' though all the rights of civilisation are mercilessly
sacrificed by the present system and its administration. If any one doubts the
justice of this censure let him turn to a parliamentary return for the metropolitan
district, printed in 1856, showing the number of new licences granted and the
number of licences taken away in the years 1850-1-2-3-4-5. The number granted
was 520; the number taken away (out of 6,000 public-houaes) thirtv-nine, of
Vol. 12.-2^0. 46. M
178 Siatiitical Data for Social Beformers,
which seventeen only were permanentlj forfeited. Can credolitj the most extm-
Tagant imagine that in any five years only thirty-nine licences, out of 6,000, were
l^ii^y rescindable for misconduct, contntry to their terms and tenour? And if
the forfeiture was not enforced, who was to blame ? A much more recent parlia-
mentary, return has been published, having reference to the years ending Septem-
ber 29th, 1866-7-8, and to the counties of Bedford, Buckingham, Cambridge (with
the Isle of Ely), Essex, Hertford, Huntingdon, Leicester, Lincoln, Norfolk,
Northampton, Oxford, Rutland, Salop, Stafford, Suffolk, Warwick, and Worcester.
The population in 1861 is given (excluding the boroughs) as 3,545,267; the
public* houses and beerhouses (on the three years' average) at 10,142 and 9,973.
The houses proceeded against in the three years were 1,686 public-houses and
2,659 beershops, of which number 1,363 public-houses and 2,282 beershops were
fined. These were not all distinct houses; no doubt many of them had been
repeatedly fined; but this fact, while implicating fewer separate houses, renders
more surprising the further fact, that in these three years only twenty-nine public-
houses and five beershops were deprived of their licences, the aggregate cases of
drunkenness proceeded against by the police were 27,338, of which 19,918 cases
were subjected to fine and 3,054 committed for trial. The mockery of magisterial
control which could permit so few licences to be forfeited is almost equalled by the
mockery of police supervision which could take cogniuance of a yearly average of
only 9, 1 29 cases of drunkenness as the collective outcome of a year's tippling in
20,115 drinking-houses, scores of which are denounced by the police ana magis-
trates as centres and foci of all imaginable debauchery and crime. A similar
return has been published as to thirty-four boroughs (Birmingham, Leicester,
Norwich, Wolverhampton, Coventry, &c.)» with a collective popuktion of 990,092
in 186 L These boroughs had in the same three years (ending September 29th,
1866-7-3) an annual average of 4,582 public-bouses and 3,112 beershops. During
the three years 1.189 public-houses and 1,819 beershops were proceeded against,
and 958 public-houses and 1,468 beershops were fined, yet the public-houses
deprived of their licences were fifty-one and of the beerhouses one ! In the three
years there were 14,994 cases of drunkenness apprehended by the police, 7,698
followed by fine and 2,994 by coiumittal ; the yearly average being, respectively,
cases 4,998, fines 2,566, committals 998.
DRUNKENNESS AND CRIME IN CONNECTION WITH BOROUGH
PUBLIC-HOUSES AND BEERSHOPS.
A return obtained by Mr. Knatcbbull-Hugessen, Under Secretary of State for
the Home Department, furnishes various particulars as to the police condition of
Bradford, Derby, Hull, Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, Newcastle-on-Tyne, Not-
tingham, Sal ford, Sheffield, Stockport, and Sunderland. It is not easy to summa-
rise a sheet bristling with figures, but we shall first of all give the totals (which are
omitted from the return) under the various headings adopted :
Population of the cities and boroughs named, census of 1861 1,845,622
Number of indictable offences in the year ending September 30, 18(58. 16,190
Number of offences per 1,000 of the population , nearly 9
Number of persons apprehended for indictable offences 5,461
Number discharged for want of evidence 2,009
Number discharged for want of prosecution 771
Number committed for trial 2,681
Number of known thieves 2,540
Number of known thieves to 1,000 population about IJ
Number of licensed houses : —
Public-houses 5,273
Beerhouses 6,447
11,720
Number proceeded ngainst : —
Public-houses 553
Beerhouses , 1,950
2,503
StaUstieal Data for Social Befortnera.
179
Number conTicted : —
Public-hoasee 401
Beerhouses ^ 1,697
2,0»8
Number deprived of licence for misconduct : —
Public-houses 19
Beerhouses t 9
28
Number of inhabitants to each licensed house, according to the census
of 1861 157
Drunk, and drunk and disorderlies : —
Number proceeded against 31,948
Number convicted 23,712
Number discharged 8,236
Number proceeded against to 1,000 population about 17
Of course there are great inequalities in the relative proportions of different
places. These maj be exhibited by extracts from the return : —
Bradford
Derby
Hull
Leeds
Liverpool
Mancnester ,
Newcastle-on-Tjne
Nottingham
Salford
Sheffield
Stockport
Sunderland
No. of
indictable
offences
per 1,(mX)
population.
289
174
213
6-416
10-491
22-964
3-751
•966
9139
2-63
1-042
105
No. of
No. of
known
inhabitants
thieves to
to each
1.000
licensed
population.
house.
1-045
193
1-671
125
102
191
2-08
220
1124
166
2098
132
1658
131
1-596
162
1-318
156
0-053
132
0-384
205
0-476
149
No. proceeded
against
as drunk, and
drunk and
disorderly per
1,000
population.
2-683
6-081
9-727
6-584
32-556
28-196
16-03
2-401
6219
5-519
16-331
7.327
This table illustrates (what is often unjusdy charged upon statistics as peculiar ta
them) the unreliableness of comparisons where the conditions are diverse. It it
well known that as to apprehensions for drunkenness, both the rule and practice
differ greatly in different towns ; and an anomaly presented by this table — the
excess of indictable offences in Manchester over those in Liverpool — is explained
by the circumstance, that in the Liverpool statistics a large class of offences are
omitted, the addition of which would raise the proportion from 10-491 to
27-201 per thousand population. The Manchester return, if similarly treated,
would only be raised from 22-964 to 28*745 per thousand, and would still leave
out of sight the very important fact that the gravity of the indictable offences in
Manchester is, in general, very much less than in the sister and sea- port town. For
the reason above given, also, it needs not excite surprise that the proportions of
indictable offences and of arrests for drunkenness, and drunk and disorderly
conduct, to population, do not agree quantitively with the number of drinkine-
shops. The number of drinking-houses is an element, but simply one element, m
the power of the liquor-traffic for mischief. Size, attractiveness, and position
are also elements very powerful for evil, and will often nullify the otherwise
greater influence for evil which number would exert. What all evidence past and
present abundantly proves, is (1) that drunkenness and crime of all kinds are every-
where mainly produced by the drink-traffic ; and (2) that the drunkenness entered
on the public sheet is but a fraction of the intemperance prevailing in drink-
shops and disseminated by them. It will be obseryeoi that wnile 2,0^ of these
180 Siatistical Data for Social Befomvers.
'{mblio4]oii8e8 and beershopt were convioted of breaking the law, only twenty-
•«ei^t were deprived of their licences for misconduct
^ The following statisfeios extracted from a contemporary* are of the profoundeat
interest and importance, and, unless their aoouraoy can be successfully impeached,
• deaerre to command the serious attention of all our statesmen : —
WASTE OP THE NATION'S WEALTH EVERY YEAB BY
INTOXICATING DRINKS.
I. — MONBT AlCNUALLT SpENT IN InTOXICATINQ LiQUORS.
1. Ardent Spirits (29,413,153 gaUons in 1868) ;e30,253.605
2. Malt Liquors (24,903,696 barrels in 1868) 69,768,870
3. Poreim Wines (15,151,761 gallons in 1888) 11,363,805
4. &tttth Wines, Cider, Perry, Ac. (say) 1,500,000
^102,886,280
II.— Lofls or Wealth AimtrALLT Incttrsxd nr tct Production akd Bxtatlixo
OF IirroxicATiifa Liquors.
1. The land now devoted to the growth of barley and hops used in
making intoxicating drinks, would produce food of the value of
not less than £13,000,000
2. In the manufacture of strong drink there is a loss of capital and
labour, worth at least 15,Q00.00O
3. The labour of the retailers of intoxicating drinks, and of tiieir
servants, numbering 500,000 or upwards, would be worth, at the
low estimate of £50 each, per annum 25,000,000
£53,000,000
m. — Expenses and Burdens Annually Arising from the Use of
Intoxicating Liquors.
1. Loss of labour and time to employers and workmen by drinking —
estimated by the Parliamentary Committee of 1834 at £50,000,000
2. Destruction of property on sea and land, and loss of property by
theft and other crime, the result of drinking habits (say) 10,000,000
3. Public and private charges by pauperism, destitution, sickness,
inssnitr, and premature death — traceable to the use of strong
drink (at least) 10,000,000
4. Cost of police, prosecutions, courts of justice, support of crimi-
nals, losses to jurors and witnesses; — taking the proportion of
criminal cases due to drinking (at least) 3,000,000
£73,000,000
Great and ignoble total of the yearly loss of wealth to the British
nation by intoxicating drinks £228,886,280
WHAT COULD BE DONE WITH THE WEALTH ANNUALLY WASTED
IN INTOXICATING DRINKS BY THE BRITISH NATION.
Wealth annually wasted £228,886,280
Deduct as not available for general purposes 50,000,000
Available from annual loss £178,886,280
This sum, if applied to the liquidation of the National Debt (which was
£797,031,060 on March Slst, 1868), would effect this great undertaking in a little
over four years, and thus save the country for ever the payment of the interest on
the debt, which amounted in the year ending March 31st, 1868, to £26,571,750.
* The Temperance Times and Permissive Bill Journal, April 15th. (Curtice and
Co., 9, Bookseller s Row, Strand, London.)
Statistical Data for Social Reformers, 181
Or, it would form a fund to buy up all the railways in the United Kincdora in
less than three years ; the nett receipts of which (in 1866 they were ^ll),3o2,681)
could then be annually devoted to the public service.
Or, it would pay in one tear all the expenses of a complete drainage system,
and a water supply for every large town in the kingdom ; and by so doing lowei*
the rate of mortality and raise the standard of health and comfort over the whole
country for ever.
Or, if this enormous sum were aknuallt collected and appropriated, it would
suffice to do as follows : —
1. It would compensate the Exchequer for the loss of the Bevenue
from latoiicating Liquors £23,000,000
2. It would pay the Interest of the National Debt 26,571,750
3. It would allow all the taxes on tea, coffee, sugar, and chocolate to
bo remitted, and ensure the people * a free breakfast table ' 9,000,000
4. It would assign to public works of utility, such as drainage,
harbours, lighthouses, reclamation of waste lands, &c., &c 50,000,000
5. It would appropriate for the purposes of a complete system of
free public eaucation, public libraries, schools of design, ai^t
establishments, &c 25,000,000
6. It would allow for public parks, ^rdens, baths, gymnasia, and
other means of health and recreation 5,000,000
7. It would permit as grants for the relief of destitution and sickness,
(under judicious management without demoralising the re-
cipients) 10,000,000
8. It would assign for the gradual re-building and improvement of
villages, towns, and cities 25,0(X),000
173,571,750
Unappropriated 5,314,530
£178.886,280
Note. — All this expenditure being axnual, and much of it re-productive, the
Annual Surplus could go to form a great National Eeserve ^fund available for
purposes of social advancement and defence.
Can the correctness of these caleulations be voraciously assailed ? The attributed
waste of wealth is classed under three divisions, the last of which may be considered
exceedingly moderate, and the two others are unassailable unless on the theory
that the use of intoxicating beverages is of some substantial value to mankina.
Even those who contend for the affirmative, would generally allow that there is an
abuse of such liquors extending to one-half or two-thirds of the quantity consumed ;
so that, by that amount, the wealth expended on their production and purchase
is admitted to be wasted. It is no objection to these calculations to say that the
money so spent goes to the creation of certain forms of industrial operation, and
thereby to the support of a certain portion of the population : for if the operations-
are not productive of wealth (or what is for the weal of society), all that is done ia
so much loss of productive power, and all money spent in the articles produced is^
paid for nothing, the only useful result being that so many people (enaployed in
the traffic) are fed, clothed, &c., at the expense of the nation. It will be-
observed that the author of these statistics assigns £50,000,000 as an equivalent for
the wealth thus absorbed, and takes only a balance of £178,886,2bU as wealtb
capable of being applicable to purposes of the greatest social usefulness and worth.
The general deduction — one very humbling to our pretensions as an enlightened
people — is, that we waste in alcoholic liquors, year after year, an amount of
available refK)urces sufficient to make us the happiest and most prosperous nation
beneath the sun.
( 182)
SELECTIONS.
DINING HALLS.
A HEETiNa which took place recently,
under the presidency of the Earl of
Shaftesbury, will give a great impetus
in the metropol's to the movement
which has for its object the establish-
ment of places of refreshinpnt for the
working classes, with all the advantages
and none of the evils incidental to
public-houses. For some years past, in
various parts of the country, a trial of
such places has been made, and wonder-
ful unanimity prevails as to the success
of the experiments. In Shrew:»bury,
for example, a building was erected at
a c<»t of £4,000, containing dining,
recreation, and reading-rooms. An
additional sum of £200 was spent in
enlarging the premises, which was re-
couped in the course of two years and a
half from the profits of the under-
taking. No less a number than 2,000
meals, of an unexceptionable kind, are
provided at a reasonable rate each week,
and 80 eagerly do the workpeople in
the town, as well as the agriculturalists
who visit it on market day, avail them-
eelves of the advantages thus offered,
that arrangements are about to be made
to increase the size of the building. In
the course of five years, 1,000 persons
using the refrashment-room have
entered their names in a temperance
pledge-book kept on the premises. A
kindred institution is that known as the
Westminster Club. It differs, how-
ever, in this respect, that none but
members who pay ^d. per week can
participate in its benefits. The present
number of members is 27,478, and the
library contains between 200 and 300
volumes. At Aldershot a club-house
was erected in 1863, involving an outlay
of £6,000. Within the walls of the
building are cofiee, smoking, and read-
ing-rooms, and a lecture hall capable
of seating 700 persons. The little town
of Market Lavington, with a popula-
tion of 1,500, is in happy possession of
one of the most successful of these
working men's clubs. The structure in
which its operations are carried on is
admirably planned, containing within
its area a coffee-room — which, the report
of last year states, was so well patron-
ued, that it would not have been too
]&rge if it had been three times its
present size — lecture, smoking, reading,
and recreation rooms. Every depart-
ment of the institution pavs its own
way. At Tunbridge Wells the refresh-
ment department was originally in the
hands of a committee, but at the end of
four years it was made over to a mana-
ger, who can now boast that the receipts
for the provisions supplied have risen
from £600 to £1,200 per annum. The
Eastbourne Institution, wliich at the
outset cost £3,000, and has lately been
much enlarged, is in advance of most of
the others in this respect — that it has
dormitories attached to it. Shaftesbury
Hall, Prince's-road, Notting-hill, Lon-
don, has been opened about two years,
its promoters being anxious to give to
the working classes a public-house,
minm intoxicating drinks. They have,
therefore, so arranged it, that, in addi-
tion to the bar, where artisans can
obtain all they may require in the way
of refreshment, they can carry on the
various organisations which are in-
separably connected with the.r position
and pursuits. Thus loan societies,
benefit societies, and discussion classes
are all held on the premises, being
managed by the working men them-
selves. Lectures and cntertainnisnts
are also provided, and opportunities
afforded for moral and religious instruc-
tion. When first the public-house was
opened, the supply of refreshments was
limited to tea and coffee, but at the
present time anything that is requisite
for the working man in the way of food,
and drinks not intoxicating, may be
obtained between five in the morning
and eleven at night. The catering de-
partment is under the direction of an
efficient manager, who undertakes it on
his own responsibility, paying a certain
weekly sum for the premises. About
£22 per week are received from the sale
of refreshments. It was at Shaftesbury
Hall that the meeting took place, and
the proceedings were renderea specially
interesting by the presence and speech
of Mr. Corbett, whose eflbrts in Glasgow
in providing cheap refreshment-rooms
have acquired wide and deserved reputa-
tion. Mr. Corbett stated that he was
Selections.
188
led to engage in the enterprise from
the conviction that, except in places
where they were exposed to the tempta-
tions incidental to drink, there were no
oonyenient and comfortable houses of
resort where the working classes could
obtain cheap and wholesome food.
Looking carefully at the question of pro-
yisions, he came to the conclusion that
the real cost of a cup of tea, a bowl of
aoup, or an egff, was about |d. each,
and thereupon determined to establish
the principle of penny rations. Haying
taken a suitable hall in Glasgow, he
fitted it up in a way that would render
it attractive. No sooner was the hall
thrown open, than it was found that the
public would eagerly avail themselves
of the advantages wluch it offered, and,
in the course of a very short experienoe,
it proved to be entirely self-supporting.
He was desirous that it should be
understood that while he had gone into
the matter from philanthropic motives,
he determined to carry it out upon
strictly self-supporting principles. He
had looked at it from first to last in a
commercial light. When the working
men and others entered the rooms for
refreshment, they did not feel that they
were the subjects of patronage, but were
perfectly independent. The first hall
ne had opened haviag proved so success-
ful, the plan was extended, and at the
present time there were twenty-five of
these places in full workin? order in the
city of Glasgow. What be had done
was this. Taking a map of the city, he
had fixed upon the spots where he
thought such establishments were most
required, and then he had opened
them, and the result had been that a
gross profit of XIO.OOO or ;eil,000 had
been obtained. The expenses of the
refrasliment halls were about £8,000,
which gave a net profit of about £2,000
per annum, a profit as net as any ob-
tained from any of the business trans-
actions in which commercial men were
engaged. As to the provisions supplied
at the refreshment-rooms, they were of
the best quality, though they were
simply cooked. This latter plan was
adopted, as it was thought that if the
food was disguised by the artifices of
cookery it might be regarded with a
suspicious eye by the working classes.
From a paper containing some statistics,
he found that 44,800 bowls of porridge,
58,3r'2 cups of coffee, 75,0 0 cups of
tea, 21,594 slices of bread and batter,
27,600 eggs, 148,016 plates of beef,
225,344 plates of potatoes, 99,844 basins
of soup, and 135,000 plum puddings,
were consumed in the course of a month.
The reasons why halls such as he had
established in Glasgow were not some-
times successful were, that they were
E laced in the wrong localities, or were
uilt in the wrong way. His own idea
had always been to have comfortable,
well-lighted, and well-ventilated rooms,
about 100 feet long by 40 feet wide,
lighted from the roof, and some 30 feet
in height He thought he might say
of the rooms in Glasgow, that ther
were as well lighted, as well warmeo,
and as airy as any of those in which
gentlemen were in the habit of taking
their dinners. Beferring again to the
secret of the non-success of similar
rooms elsewhere, Mr. Gorbett expressed
the belief that it arose from the want of
unity of management In order to
carry out the principle properly, there
should be one directing head. Where
that was obtainable they would be sure
to answer commercially. In his own
case he had been repaid the whole of
the capital he had laid oat, with the ex-
ception of investments in the buildines,
and had made a profit of about JS7,000,
which, in accordance with a resolution
he had formed, he hcd handed over to
various charitable purposes. Without
entering into details, he might say that
the kitchen of his establishment covered
an area of a quarter of an acre in
extent, and that the milk of 120 cows
daily was taken for their use. There
needed to be bo doubt whatever that in
London such rooms would prove
eminently successful. The metropolis
was specially fitted for such an under-
taking, but it ought to be carried out in
some other way than through the
medium of committees, which, as a
rule, were weak, and not adapted for
such work. As the great difficulty ia
London in the way of establishing these
refreshment places would be obtaining
suitable halls, he would suggest that a
committee should be got together for
the purpose of provimnff these. Let
the committee provide the buildings,
and then let them place the refreshment
department in the hands of energetic
and competent managers, who would
have it under their own control, and
would find it to their advantage to oon-
duct it efficiently. He specially com-
mended this view to the attention qC thA
184
Selections,
Earl of Shaftesbury, and would be
delighted to find that his lordship took
it up. At the conclusion oi Mr.
Corbett's speech, a committee such as
he had suggested was appointed, the
Earl of Shaftesbury expressing his fuO
concurrence in the movement which
had been the subject of oonsidemtion. —
Western Momifig News,
AN ENGLISH PHOTOGRAPH, BY AN AMERICAN.
CviTOM may blind the eyes and deafen
the ears of Englishmen to the sights
and sounds of vice among women that
startle the foreigner at every turn ; but
this monster — Custom — is a part of the
ill-treatment of Englishwomen. No
man has a right to accustom himself to
crime. Custom permits women to
drink gin at public-houses in the most
frequented streets. Custom admits
women, unattended, to the upper
galleries of all the theatres. Custom
permits prostitutes to take entire pos-
session of the Haymarket and its
vicinity after ten o'clock at night Cus-
tom opens dance-houses and promenade
concerts for the express accommodation
of prostitutes, although the authorities
who license them know that they are
simply places of assignation. Custom
sets apart certain districts of London
for the residences of lewd women. Cus-
tom keeps open night-houses, in order
that prostitutes may be able to get drunk
after the regular taverns have closed at
midnight Custom is responsible for
all this; but Englishmen are responsible
for the custom. The police and the
magistrates are powerless to suppress
many acknowledged haunts of vice in
England, because there is no public
opinion to sustain them. Nay — as
public opinion cannot bo neutral, it
tacitly declares itself in favour of vice,
and forces the police and the magistrates
to aid and abet the very institutions
they were created to annihilate. In
other countries, crime hides itself from
the eyes of the policeman, and trembles
at the very name of a magistrate. In
England, it puts itself under the pro-
tection of the law, and transforms the
law's ofBcials into its own agents and
instruments. The police mount guard,
in order that nobody may interfere
with the criminal ; and the magistrates
actually assist him to collect his in-
famous dues from his victims.
Hogarth never painted, nor Dickens
described, worse scenes than those-
enacted in the licensed nieht-houses.
One morning, I recollect, long after
the legal hour for closing tlie esUtblish-
ment, the police visited a night-house
near Leicester Square. The house is
arranged with a neat little shop— in
which nothing is ever sold — opening
on to the street Passing through the
shop, you go up-stairs, and find year-
self in a small room, famished in a
light Parisian style, and with a lai^
table in the centre. Around the table,
on the night in question, were a dozen
courtesans and as many of their ad>
mirers, laughing, drinking, siijging,
shouting, and bandying coarse jokes.
A young lord, with more money than
sense, was calling for bottles of ' fizs ' —
slang for champagne— and giving hia
I O U to the bar-tender for the amount.
Suddenly there came a knock at the
baize door, and the porter was heard to
call — ' Be still a moment, please, ladies;
here's the police.' I happened to be
waiting on the stairway for a friend,
and saw the whole modus operandi.
* Who is it ? ' asked the landlord. The
porter mentioned the policeman's name.
* Take him a glass of sherry ; that's all
right,' was the response. The fun and
noiie went on. Half-an-hour after-
wards, there was another knock, another
inquiry, another name. 'Here, Mary,
vou must go down to him,' said the
landlord. The riot and rampage were
louder than ever. Another knock :
three policemen this time; the thing
was growing more serious. The
drinking-room was thrown open, and
the three policemen marched in.
The courtesans had vanished through
another door, but betrayed their
presence not less by their giggling
and talking, than by the muffs, cloaks,
and gloves they had left in the room.
Their admirers were sitting quietly
around the table, smoking peacefully.
' Lodgers ?' asked one of the policemen.
Notices of Booka.
185-
'Certainly, sir,' replied the landlord.
The women tittered loudly. * Qood
night,' said the policeman, and the
three guardians of the peace marched
l^ravely away. This, drawn from life,
IS a night inspection by the Haymarket
police in 1868. Justice is said to be
blind ; but are her representatives deaf
as well? If so, how much did it cost
to blind and deafen them? — English
Photographs by an American, London :
Tinsley Brothers.
NOTICES OF BOOKS.
Report by the Committee on Intempe-
rance for the Lower House of Convo-
cation of the Province of Canterbury,
Printed and circulated by order of the
Lower House, with copious Appendix,
London: Longman, Green, Bolder,
and Dyer.
Tnis is by far the most valuable Beport
on Litemperanoo that has appearea for
many years. In some respects its im-
portance is unique. Considering its
source, — the Lower House of ConToca-
tionofthe Pronnoe of Canterbury, —
and the class of readers to whom it
especially appeals, it is the first and
only thing of its kind. And apart from
its origin and destination, it is replete
with the results of a most thorough
examination by circular, of witnesses,
including not only the psrochial clergy
of the prorince, but fuso the judges,
police magistrates, recorders, and coro-
ners of England and Wales, the super-
intendents of lunatic asylums, the
governors and chaplains of prisons,
heads of the constabulary through-
out Great Britain, and the masters of
workhouses throughout England and
Wales ; from all of which classes copious
answers to questions have been returned,
showing the extent, causes, results, and
desired remedies of intemperance. Of
these answers abundant selections have
been made, and are printed in the ap-
pendix to the Beport ; they present, we
are assured, a fair and impartial sample
of the whole, afforded by witnesses
entitled to be heard on the subject, with
which from their respective positions
they must be necessarily so fully ac-
quainted as to give authority to their
statements.
It is impossible in a brief notice to
give any adequate notion of the varied
contents of this most instructive and
invaluable volume. In a subseqaent
number of Meliora, we shall supply
copious details drawn from this source ;
at present we can only indicate the
course taken by the inquiry as developed
in this Beport and Appendix. Of the
age at which intemperance begins, we
have the evidence of clergymen and
governors of workhooses ; of the beer-
shops as causing intemperance, that of
clergy, chief constables and superinten-
dents of police, governors of workhouses,
and coroners ; of the causative action of
all public facilities for drinking, that of
clergy, governors and chaplains of
prisons, chief constables and superin-
tendents of police, an asvlum superin-
tendent, and jfovemors of workhouses ;
of samples of disproportion of public-
houses, etc., to population, that of
clergy, recorders, chief constables and
superintendents of police ; of the evil of
paying wages at public-houses, that of
clergy and a workhouse chaplain ; of
the part payment of wages in drink,
that of clergy, coroner, landowner, and
governors of workhouses ; of the meeting
of clubs at public-houses, that of clergy,
recorder, superintendent of asylum,
and governors of workhouses; and
of statutes, mops, etc., that of clergy,
chief constables and superintendents of
police, and governors of workhouses,
further on, clergy, coroners, and
recorder give testimony on the adul-
teration of liquor; clergy on police
corruption ; clergy and governor of
workhouse on the effect of intemperance
on the work of the Church; judges,
magistrates, recorders, clergy, gover-
nors of workhouses, governors and
chaplains of prisons, and chief con-
stables and superintendents of police
on intemperance and crime ; clergy,
superintendents of asylums, and coro-
ners on disease, lunacy, and sacrifice of
life; clergy, superintendents of asylums.
186
Notices of Books,
and goyernors of workhouses on the
unwise prescription of alcohol as
medicine ; governors and chaplains of
prisons and workhouses on the benefit
of withdrawing intoxicating liquors;
and Sir C. Trevelyan and Sir John
Bowring on the obstruction to the gos-
pel by intemperance. Besides all this
eyidence, we bare more by clergy,
recorders, maj^istrates, coroners, super-
intendents of asylums, governors of
workhouses and prisons, chief constables
and superintendents of police on general
and particular remedies for intempe-
rance, including asylums for inebriates,
cottage allotments, cofTce rooms, penny
readings, improved dwellings, educa-
tion, special teaching of laws of health,
training of females in domestic duties,
temperance societies, bands of hope
and total abstinence, Sunday closing,
early closing, reduction in number of
public - houses, change of licensing
authority, enforcement of penalties,
special inspection, and detection of
adulteration, papular restraint on the
issue of lice7tses, and good ejffects of
having no public-house or beerstiop.
Lastly, there is given a list of parishes
in the province of Canterbury in
which no public-house or beershop
exists ; — a list, we must say, of surpris-
ing length. The whole of the evicfence
thus given in a volume of 2SS pages is
carefully and methodically arranged ;
and it is preceded by the report of the
Committee of Convocation, which,
under the able and most laborious,
arduous, ond self-denying chairmanship
of the Ven. Archdeacon Sandford,
undertook, carried out, and now causes
to be published the results of this re-
markable and most instructive inquiry.
A Narrative of the Cruelties Inflicted upon
Friends of North Carolma Yearly
Meeting during the Years 1861 to
1865, in consequence of their Faithful-
ness to the Christian view of the Un-
lau fulness of War. Published by
order of the Sepresentatives of North
Carolina Yearly Meeting of Friends.
With a few Introductory Bemarks by
Joseph Crosfield. London : Edward
Newman, 9, Devonshire-street,
Bishoppgate.
That tiie diivs of heroism are not all
gone by; that fidelity to what is be-
lieved to be Christian principle can
still stifien the back, ucrTO the breast to
bear, and defy all the tortures that can
be inflicted, the pamphlet before us
gives abundant proof, if proof is re-
quired. It shows, too, that the Sociefy
of Friends still remains true to ite
ancient testimony concerning the un-
lawfulness of war. It is a lovely
doctrine, — this of non-resistance to
evil, — if we did but live in a world
where it could be consistently adopted.
But^ in principle, international war
and civil war are the sumo ; and (leay-
ing war international out of the
reckoning) how we are to exist in this
world without civil war we hold to be
an unsolved problem. The whole
difficulty would be abolished, if mur-
derers, iburglars, and all other workers
of criminal iniquity, would but respect
the peace principle, and have soma
regard for tne wefrare of society. Thia^
however, they decline to do ; nenoe the
necessity for a police force. Now there
are two things to be remarked in a
police force; — first, the police; and
second, the force. If we could hsTe
the police without the force, the peace-
principle, in civil life, could be estab-
lished ; but as the force is indispensable,
and the police, in the last resort, would
be useless without it, the peace-prind^le
^oes to the wall For foroe--disgui8e
It by what name we may — means
war, and nothing short of it. The
policeman implies the truncheon, and
if one policeman and one truncheon
be not sufficient, then two, a dozen, or
a score; and if these fail, then must
come in the red-coated policeman, the
man of the rifle, the bayonet, and the
sword. The soldier being thus, in
fact, a policeman ; and the policeman
being in his turn a soldier in a blue
coat, and his function that of waging
war against the disturbers and enemies
of civil society, — as that of the soldier,
rightly considered, is to take into cus-
tody or to put in a place or state of
safety to society the international foes
of moral law and order, where is the
consistency of renouncing the red*coat
whilst accepting the blue? Admit
that the magistrate is not to use the
sword under any circumstances, then,
indeed, the peace-principle is saved, but
at the expense of the very existence of
society. Allow that the magistrate doth
not and ought not to wear the sword in
vain, and what becomes of the peace-
principle ? If it be lawful to use what-
ever force is accessary to fend off* a mur-
derer from one's wife or family, it cannot
Notices »f Books.
187
be unlawful to use whatever force may
be necessary to keep off a thousand or a
hundred thousand. In both cases the
principle is the same. He, therefore,
who holds that war is unlawful, must
show how civil society is possible with-
out a police force ; how harmless people
can escape slavery or worse, whilst
murderers, depredators, and evil-doers
of all kinds are allowed to work their
will with impunity. And the Christian
who believes that civil society without
police protection, or in principle what
anicunts to it, is impossible, must con-
clude, of course, that whatever be the
precepts of Christ which in their literal
sense appear to prescribe entire non-
rcMstance, this, at any rate, must be an
exaggeration of their real meaning. To
the good people of whom the pamphlet
before us speaks, no such consideration
would appear to have presented it-
self. * The Christian view of the un-
lawfulness of war' has been taken for
granted ; and what has remained, of
course, has simply been, to carry it out
in all honesty and fidelity* And for
this we pay the honour that honesty
and fidelity to principle must always
receive, even when these are to some
extent combined with inadequacy of
observation and reflection. The peace-
principle is in itself so lovely, — it brings
with it such airs from heaven, — it
breathes so consentaneously with all
ihat is most saintly and angelical, that
we cannot withhold from it our admira-
tion and reverence, whilst we sigh to
know that in tliis world at present it is
not entirely and consistently practical
Towards its full realisation all tiue
civilisation must constantly be tending.
Mav the time speedily come when it
will be susceptible of a much more
thorough embodiment in institutions
and customs than, unhappily, it is now.
Apart from the peace-pnnciple, much
respect is due to the assertion of the
right to choose one's side in a war, and
again, of the right to be consulted as to
whether one will or will not devote
one's-self to the occupation of a soldier
on either side. In times of supreme
need, authorities assume the right to
press all men into the service ; and if a
man chooses to stand on his individual
right to decide whether or not he will
apply his energies in soldiering, and is
willing to abide by all the consequences
of his decision, we may -both admire
his courage and respect his principle of
inaction. From this pomt of view, the
resistance so stoutly and bravely offered
to enlistment by the ' Friends ' in the
Southern States during the late civil
war, may be rejoiced in by many who
fail to see the practicability of the full
peace-principle. And although the
narratives given in the pamphlet before
us are inartistically and baldly framed,
they suffice to enable us to discern the
existence and ability of a heroism in
many cases that r^dly deserves to be
called magnificent.
In his introductory remarks, Joseph
Crosficld observes that 'since the re-
bellion in Ireland there has been nothing
which can be compared to the faithful- •
ness of these Friends in the Southern
States. In Germany some of the
Friends have undergone severe personal
suffering, and in Norway also several
young men have been repeatedljr im-
prisoned because they would not violate
their consciences by takine up arms;
but the state of things revealed to us in
this narrative is on a larger scale, and
shows a whole coifimnnity firmly yet
meekly resisting what they felt to be
unlawful for them as Christian men to
comply with, and patiently abiding the
consequences.'
Our readers will like to sec the fol-
lowing extracts from this very interest-
ing * Sarrative : ' —
*In the spring of 1865 about forty
men professing to be in search of cour
scripts, came to a mill belonging to J.
D., of Cane Creek, Chatham Co. The
miller was first hung up bv a rope three
times to force him to betray his sons,
who were hidden. Upon hearing the
screams of the miller's wife and children,
J. D. went out to the crowd. The same
information was demanded of him, but
he assured them of his entire ignorance
as to their retreat. He was at once
seized and carried into the barn. A
rope was tied around his neck, and
thrown over a beam, while he was
mountea upon a box. Then, beginning
to tighten the rope, they said, " You
are a Quaker, and your people, by
refusing to fight and "keeping so many
out of Oie army, have caused the defeat
of the South," adding, that if he had
any prayers to offer, he must be quick,
as he had only five minutes to live. J.
D. only replied that be was innocent,
and could adopt the language, " Father,
forgive them ; they know not what they
do." They then said ths^ ^^x^^ \i^\.
188
Notices of Boolcs.
hang him just then, but proceeded to
rob him ; then ordered him under a
horse-trough, threatening to shoot him
if he looked up. While lying there he
could hear them hanging up the miller
three different times till tno sound of
strangling began. After finally extorting
a promise from him to find his sons
thej left, charging J. D. to lie still till
they came back with some others to
bang. They did not return, however,
but went on to one of his Methodist
neighbours, whom they hung until un-
conscious, and then left him in that
state; and the next night they found
one of the missing conscripts, whom
they hung until dead. Such were the
persecutions at the hands of yiolent
men, of which many instances could be
given.'
* J. G., of Co., was conscripted
in the autumn of 1862. About two
months before this his fear of the
coming evil was so great that he left
his home and family, and escaped to
Tennessee. But finding that the step
did not result in peace of mind, he
returned and quietly awaited the result.
In about two weeks he was arrested and
carried to Camp Holmes. In a few
days the conscripts were all summoned
and offered bounty money if they would
now volunteer. J. G. and two others
refused the offer. An attempt was next
made to entrap them by giving them a
paper to sign, without which they were
assured they could have neither money
nor clothing. They were adroitly told
of the great need they might soon have
of the latter, or if not needing it them-
selves, of the good they might do in
giving it to the needy. These offers
were steadily refused, and the wily
arguments met by the open assertion
that " all war was opposed to the whole
spirit and teachings of the Gospel and
tne mission of the Christian. His
weapons, thev said, were not to be carnal
but spiritual.'* Bundles of clothing
were, however, soon to?sed to them,
with many offensive epithets, and they
were now told that they must either
obey orders or be shot ; and that if they
did not fire when in battle the men
behind were ordered to shoot them.
J. G. replied, *' You have me here, and
may inflict on me any punishment you
vrill ; but I cannot do more than Rubmit
to what Tou inflict. My hands are
clean of the blood of men, and I intend
to keep them so, cost what it may."
' An attempt was then made to force*
the bounty money upon them, but in
vain. One of the officers now came
forward and said, ''Boys, I want to
give you some good advice. Take your
clothing and money and go along. Obey
your officers and do right, or else you
will be put under sharp officers of CoL
S., who will have you shot into strings
if you don't obey. Just put away your
Quaker notions now and do right.
What regiment will you be sent to ? "
Refusing to commit himself by any
choice, he was ordered to Richmond,
Va. ; but while on his way he, vritb
several others, was released through the
efforts of Friends, and the payment of
the five hundred dollars required.'
'S. F., who had become a member-
with us after the passage of the Exemp-
tion Act, and could not avail himself of
it. was arrested in the Twelfth Month,.
1864, and taken to Salisbury. On re-
fusing to take a gun he was subjected
for two hours to the brutnl punishment
known as bucking, in which the person
is placed in a stooping position, ther
wrists firmly tied and brought in front-
of the knees, with a pole thrust between:
the elbows and the knees, thus keeping'
the body in a painful and totally help-
less position. After this he is made to
carry a pole for two or three hours, and
then tied during the night. The next
morning he was tied up by the hands
for two hours. The same afternoon a
gun was tied to his right arm and a
piece of timber to his neck. Unable
longer to endure the weight of it, he
sat down in order to support the end of
it upon the ground, when hf^ was pierced
by a bayonet They then bucked him
down again, and gagged him with a
bayonet for the remainder of the day.
Enraged at the meekness with which
these cruelties and indignities were
homo, the captain began to swear at
him, telling him it was useless to contend
further; he must now take a gun or
die. As the captain proceeded to tie
the gun upon his arm, S. F. answered
quietly, *• If it is thy duty to inflict
this punishment upon me do it cheer-
fully— don't get angry about it." The
captain then left him, saying to his
men, " If any of i/ou can make him
fights do it — I cannot" Two young
men now appeared with their guns,
telling him they were going to take him
off and shoot him. '• It is the Sabbath,'*
he replied, " and as good a day to die
Notices of BooJcs.
189
88 any.'' They, however, took him to
the colonel of the regiment, who, more
inclined to mercy, advised him to con-
sult a lawyer and procure exemption, if
possible, but assured him that if not so
released he must take his gun or die.
Two days after his gun was tied to his
arm with great severity, and a strap
passed around his neck, by which he
was dragged around nearly the entire
day. The next day the bucking was
resorted to, A Friend, who visited the
camp at this time, remonstrating against
such cruelty, it was given up, though
he was still retained as a prisoner till
the surrender of Salisbury, not long
after, restored him to his family.'
' S. W. L., of Randolph Co., N.C.,
was another of the number who proved
• faithful unto death. He had oeen a
member of our religious society but a
few months when he was arrested as a
conscript and sent to the camp near
Fetersburgh, Ya. Upon his arrival he
was ordered to take up arms. This he
refused to do, and as a punishment was
kept from sleep for thirty-six hours.
As this did not move him, for about a
week after he was daily bucked down
for some length of time, and then sus-
pended by the thumbs for an hour and
a half. Being still firm in his refusal
to fight, he was court-martialed and
.ordered to be shot. A little scaffold
was prepared, on which he was placed,
and the men were drawn up in line
ready io execute the sentence, when he
prayed, " Fatiier, forgive them, for they
know not what they do." Upon hear-
ing this they lowered their guns, and ha
was thrust into prison. Not long after
he was sent to Winder Hospital, at
Bichmond, Va., where, after a long and
suffering illness, the end came in his
peaceful release for a mansion in heaven.
A few lines from an officer im the regi-
ment to which he had been assigned
closed the suspense of an afilicted family,
when his widow and his seven children
were left with little other legacy than
the like precious faith. "It is my
Sainful duty to inform you that S. W.L.
ied in Winder Hospital, at Bichmond,
on the 8th of December, 1864. He
died, as he had lived, a true,, humble,
and devoted Christian, true to his faith
and religion We pitied
him and sympathised with him; . . . •
but he is 'rewarded for his fidelity and
ia at rest." '
T%e Laws of Vital Farce in HeaUh and
Diseeus ; §r, the True Basis of Medical
Science, By E. Haughton, A.B.,
M.D., M.R.C.S.E., &c. Second
Edition, Bevised and Enlarged, pp.
88. London: John Churchill and
Sons, New Burlington-street.
Thb author has col&cted, revised, and
re-publi^'hed, in this little volume,
several articles that have formed part
of The London Medical Beview, The
Journal of Health, or The Medioal
Mirror, and to these has added other
material, all tending to explain and
illustrate what he deems to nave been
when he first stated it, a new theory of
medicinal action. He holds, firstly,
that the nervous system is the chief
asent in the production and cure of
diseases. He next enunciates the dictum
that health is three- fold in its essential
characteristics, and that hence disease
is so likewise ; consequently, that every
form of morbid action is referable to
one single type. He names, as the
primary essentials of health, * sufficiency
of working power,* * regularity in the
rate of ita evolution,' and ' proportion-
ate distribution of the same to the
various organs of the body.* On the
other hand, disease consists in aberra-
tion from this condition of the vital
force, either in respect of quantity,
proportion, or time, thus giving rise to
* diminished vitality,* 'disturbed ner-
vous eq^uilibrium,* and ' functional
irregularity,' and originating all these
whenever there is any departure from
the healthy standard in any one respect.
The chief efforts of the physician
should in every case, he says, be directed
to increase ^neral vitality, to restore
nervous equilibrium, and to regulate
periodic action. Such are the cardinal
points of the author's theory, and to
these he adds some very sensible
accessories ; as, that the enormous value
of hygeine should be more fully insisted
on than has hitherto been usual; that
constant and needless interference with
nature is adverse to recovery and
cannot be too much deprecated, as
tending to defraud the patient and de-
grade the physician; tnat no class of
remedies should be neglected for which
there is the testimony of educated and
intelligent observers, but that each
practitioner should be left free to use
whatever means he may judge most fit.
How far the author's tLeory (that the
190
Notices of Boohf.
wbole art of curing difleoses consists in
increasing the working power of the
human machine, and restoring the
equalitj and regularity of its action) is
what it appears at first sight, — nothing
more than a somewhat vague and un-
fruitful generalisation, having no visibly
useful bearing on medical practice, we
must leave the medical profession now
or hereafter to decide. We are glad to
find the author affirming that * whilst
alcohol, when given as a palliative,
acts isopathicallj in delirium tremens^
antipathieallj in exhaustion, and allo-
pathically in dyspepsia' [always sup-
posing these three statements to ce
itrictly correct], yet that none of these
actions represent any increase of vital
power. With regard to the action of
alcohol in cases of exhaustion, he ob-
serves that ' it is true we may rouse the
powers which exist in the body by
alcoholic stimulation, but every sign of
life which is thus elicited leaves in the
body just so much less vitality than it
bad before, unless advantage is taken
of the temporarily-increased evolution
of vital force by the application of other
remedies, or the alteration of surround-
ing conditions.'
JMinnie's Mission : An Attstralian Tefn-
perance Tak. By Maud Jean Franc.
jPp. 296. London : Sampson Low,
Son, and Marston, Crown Buildings,
188, Fleet-street.
So long as intemperance continues to
desolate families, so long will tempe-
rance tales continue to be written, and
have a claim to be circulated and read.
Whether the supply is in excess of
the demand, as tested by the booksellers'
balance sheets, we cannot authoritatively
state ; but it appears to be a perpetually
increasing quantity, and this indicates
at least that an ever-increasing number
of thoughtful minds are being impressed
afre^ with the evils of strong drink,
and are desirous to contribute their
earnest 'contingents to the great array
of suasion. The writer of * Minnie's
Mission ' is a lady who appears to have
lived for some years in Australia, and
to have become profoundly touched by
the miseries superinduced by drinking
customs on colonial life. And she has
written this volume in order to reveal
those miseries, and to show, first, what
needs to be attempted, and, second, what
may be accomplished, by all who agree
with her in deploring their existence.
Minnie is a young immigrant who in
the course of events is consigned to
Australia, and being adopted cordially
into the family of an uncle near Ade-
laide, finds and accepts a temperance
mission amongst them, full of difficulty
in the outset, but ending at last in a
complete success, making itself evident
just when a sudden attack of disease
carries off the amiable and faithful
missionary. The story is simply told,
without any great display of literary
skill, but in an earnest and thoroughly
Christian spirit, and will make itseu
acceptable to all wiio love this qualifi*
cation. Glimpses of Australian scenery
and life give a pleasant local colouring
to the tale. The volume is neatly
printed on good paper and handsomely
t)ound in cloth.
7he Hydropaikie Becord and Medical
Free Press; Devoted to the Advocacy
of Hydropathy, Hyyeine, and NeU"
rofherapeia, Malvern : Advertiser
Office. London : Heywood and Co.,
Strand.
Several numbers of this new medical
journal have been forwarded to us. In
that for May, we find an article on the
Permissive Bill. ' There can no longer
be any doubt,' the author savs, • t£at
the United Kingdom Alliance is a power
in the country, which our whisky-
drinking and beer-manufacturing sena-
tors would do well to pay attention to.
All that is asked is that one ne'ghboor-
hood shall not have the power of forcing
intemperance upon another — a request
so reasonable that we cannot for a
moment contemplate its final rejection
by the representatives of the nation. It
would be just as easy to stop the advance
of the tide as to prevent this measure,
or some modification of it, from becom-
ing the law of the land. We have but
little sympathy with those who would
not sacrifice some social enjoyment to
promote such an object ; but, in good
truth, there is no sacrifice in the matter.
After this measure passes, many a
family, which was always in pecuniary
difficulties, will taste tiie blessings of
independence. Many a home, which
insanity, vice, or shame used to darken,
will be full of joyous faces, and bright-
ened with the light of heavenly truth,
before unheeded ; whilst there is no in-
dividual in the community who will not
bo a gainer by the almost total absence
of street brawls and of the disgusting
Notices of Books,
191
and blasphamoas language which, under
the present sjstem, one cannot help
hearing shouted aloud in the public
thoroughfares of almost everj great;
centre of civilisation.
' Oh ! sisters and brothers dear :
Oh ! husbands, and mothers, and wires,
It is not right to call '*good oneer,'*
What costs eternal lives !
To make a long argument short, the
Permissive Bill wUl not diminish
liberty in any locality irhich has not
felt and pronounced it to be urgently
necessary ; nor will the people of any
neighbourhood desire to perpetuate ito
operation, when the conditions which
called for it have finally passed away/
Bible Exercises for the Family Beading^
for the Cottage Meeting, and the Tem-
perance Bible Class, By Mrs. Lucas-
Shad well. London: W. Xweedie,
337, Strand.
The publisher, in his advertisement to
the work, remarks that he feels assured
that it will be a great help to many who
art engaged in leading members of
Temperance Societies to a fuller know-
ledge of the Scriptures, and that it will
be found equally effective, as well as
interesting and instructive, for fireside
readings, especially on Sunday evenings,
when the family meets for social inter-
course. The publisher's remark is not
without justification. The notes have
small pretensions to originality; they
assume to be scarcely more than com-
pilations and adaptations from valuable
works on Scripture, gathered up witji
the simple object of giving all the in-
formation within the author's reach
to the class of working men and women
whom she has taught weekly for some
years past. But she has consulted some
good authorities in popular literature
in selecting her materials, and has
thrown much earnestness into her treat-
ment of the subject of the volume,
which is, *The Wanderings of the
Israelites, a Type of the Christian's
Pilgrimage to the Heavenly Canaan.'
Poems. By A. E. Hawkins. Pp. 250.
London: Chapman and Hall, 193,
Piccadilly.
These poems are evidently the outcome
of a good and gentle spirit that feels
healthily, thinks justly, and sings with
ease. We have not found in them any-
thing that 18 very original in its form
or manner, or that bums itself in upon
the mind of the reader with its fire. If
none but .first-class poetry should be
printed, these poems have no claim to
that distinction ; but there are large
circles of readers who take pleasure in
verse of no higher rank than that of
such as abounds in this volume.
Essays^ S&etekeSf and Poems. By
Andrew Wallace. Pp. 198. London:
EUiot Stock, Paternoster Sow.
' The Old Apothecary Hall, a Story,'
* Complaint of the Poor,' ' Monkton
Castle,' *Life on the Railway,' 'The
Sea Storm,' and *A Bun into the Higa-
lands,' are the principal sketches in Mr.
Wallace's volume, and reveal his pos-
session of some pleasing descriptive
power. Amongst the smaller essays
are one on Total Abstinence, and
another on the Permissive Bill, and
these enable us to congratulate the
author on his clear insight into some
of the urgent necessities of the age. A
tone of quiet good sense is everywhere
observable in his writing ; and most of
the sketches, and some poetical pieces
which occur here and there in the
volume, give evidence of his devotion
to evangelical Christian doctrine and
sentiment.
The Scattered Nation. A Monthly
Magazine. Edited by C. Schwartz,
D.D. Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster
Bow.
The editor of this magazine is a Hebrew
Christian, and his desire in carrying it
on is especially to be made useful to his
Jewish brethren in helping to convince
them that the Messiah has come. The
number for May contains part of a tale
of Jewish life in the time of our Lord,
by the Bev. Dr. Sdersheim, of Tor-
quay ; portion of a brief introduction
to the study of the Books of Daniel and
the Apocalypse; an article showing
that the Saints of all ages are fellow-
heirs; critical notices of Jewish ser-
mons ; an account of Hebrew Christians
in Spain ; the continuation of an article
on IsraeVs present position and signifi-
cance in the history of the world, and
of a treatise on the fundamental prin-
ciples of modern Judaism ; and sundry
other matter interesting to readers of
the class for whom the magazine is
designed.
re2
Notices of BooTcs.
■Old Jonathan ; the District and PaiiA
Helper, London: W. H. Colling-
ridge, Aldersgate-Btreet.
Ik its new shape, 'Old Jonathan' has
a yery much improyed appearance, and
must be still more acceptable as a gift,
and more likely to please as a purchase,
than in its former somewhat awkward
shape and size. The publisher, Mr.
W. H. Collineridge, of the City Press,
117 to 120, Aldersgate-street, has taken
into partnership his brother, Mr.
Leonard Collingridge, who for many
years has filled a position of confidence
with him. The business will in future
be carried on under the title of W. H.
and L. Collingridge.
Ibpicsfor Teachers: A New Work for
Ministers^ Sunday-school Teachers^
and others^ on an entirely Original
Plan, By James Cooper Gray, Hali-
fax, author of *The Class and the
Desk.' London : Elliot Stock.
Ths monthly numbers recently issued
continue to give copious and well-
arranged information about countries,
natural objects, and persons mentioned
in the Bible. The illustrations on wood
and the coloured maps add much to the
usefulness of the work, which, as it
advances, proves itself to be one of
great value to Sunday-school teachers
and other Bible students. The ninth
part, now out, concludes the first
volume.
7racts of tJte Weekly Jract Society for
the Heligioiis Instruction of the
Labouring Classes, 62, Paternoster
Row, London.
TuKSE tracts are printed in very large
clear type, and having a little attempt
at ornament at the top of the first pase,
are rather more attractive at first sight
than tracts are wont to be. As they
are almx>st all written in narrative
form, with persons and conversa-
tions introduced, they will be more
easily read, and are more likely to be
read through, than compositions in
more didactic style. They are very
well adapted for perusal by the less
inteUi^t of the membera of the
labouring classes.
7%e Hive: A Store-house of Afaterial
for Working Sunday-school Teachers,
London: Elliot Stock, 62, Pater-
noster Bow.
An admirable help for the Sundaj-
Bchool teacher. It has now reached
its 18th number, and appears in.
monthly pennyworths, which are worth
much more than the money charged
for them.
The *Neal Dow* Melody Book: A Col
lection of Temperance Hymns and
Songs, with a number of Popular
Junes printed in the Tonic Sol-Fa
Notation. By William Burgess.
Glasgow: 30, Hope-street Man-
chester: Tubbe and Brook.
A SBLECTioN of forty-cight good average
temperance songs and eighteen hymns,
with music, as specified in the title.
National Education from a Temperance
Standpoint, A Lecture, by W. B.
D.Gilbert, of Plymouth. Plymouth:
William Brendon and Son.
A VERT valuable tract, — ^well conceived,
and no less well written. We strongly
recommend it.
Self- Culture and Self-Beliwice Under
God the Means of Se^- Elevation. Bj
William Unsworth. London : Elli<%
Stock, 62, Paternoster Eow.
Fttll of good stimulative advice tor
working mem.
•
The Appeal: A Magazine for the People.
Price One Haffpenny. London:
Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster Bow.
The Church, A Monthly Magazine.
Price One Penny. London: Elliot
Stock.
The Devon and Cornwall Temperance
Journal^ Advocate of the Permissive
Dill, and Organ of the Devon and
Cornwall Temperance League^
Meliora.
OIYILIZATION JlSD HEALTH,
1. A Physician's Problems. By Charles ElaiUj M.D.j M.B.O.P.
London : MacmillaTi & Co. 1869.
2. The Fortmghtly Bff^, August 1st, 1869. Art. IL Liflu^
ence of Civilization on Health. By John Henry
Bridges.
•8. Macmillan's Magaaine, August. Art. L Boman Lnperial-
ism. II. llie Fall of uie Boman Empire.
EYEBYBODY belieres in civilization^ with a credulity
that is quite marvellous, considering how few ever
seriously inquire what it means, whence it arises, i^nd whither
it tends. It is one of those terms that conveniently describe
anything, from a new patent to the opening up of a new region
to trade, or a new kingdom to thought. We positively toy
with the word, as if it expressed all the potentialities of
humanity, and so willingly pardon anybody who uses it that
Buckle writes a History of Civilization in England without
ever staying to define what he meant by the term, and it does
not strike us as being at all strange. It is true we can gather
from his work what he would have us mean by it, namely, the
decay of superstition, the increase of useful knowledge, and
the growth of general conception of life and of the universe.
But such definitions are inadequate. They leave out of view
those aggregations of the social body which reveal tenden-
cies as plainly as anything else. A nomad might be free
from superstition, wonderfully wise, and possessed with a
grand notion of what Fichte calls the divine idea of the uni-
verse, but he would be a nomad still, a splendid barbarian, it
might be, but not a civilized being. We find the same haze
about the consciously ambitious definitions of others. Civil-
Yol. 12.— JVb. 47. H
194 Oivilizatvon and Health.
ization is the manhood of the race^ says one ; when men are-
quick of thought, strong of will, pregnant with invention, and
prone to induction. But at no time is it a fixed quantity; it
shifts its basis and has its periods of efiOiorescence and decay.
It is despotic and material in Egypt, religious in Palestine^
intellectual in Greece, legal and administratiye in the Boman
empire, agricultural in India, industrial in Great Britain and
North America. ^ I believe with you,' writes Dr. Arnold to
the Archbishop of Dublin, ^ that savages could never civilize
themselves, but barbarians I think might.' Here, agaiiij
civilization is the resultant progress of outside forces acting
upon inside qualities, or, in other words, the development of
natural capacities. What, then, is the true state of nature^
if, indeed, such a condition can be admitted ? A simple
pastoral life, patriarchal, romantic, and tribal. But is the
opposite of this necessarily a civilized state? A nation
of sea-kings would not answer to any of these simple condi-
tions, and might yet be uncivilized, shedding blood fireely,
rioting in rude health, and with fuller conceptions of natural
forces, of earths, and metals, and shipbuilding, and other arts.
Civilization, observes another, taking a more modem estimate^
is the conquest of mind over matter. Granted. The old
Prometheus brought fire from heaven, and was chained to an
incombustible rock for his pains ; the new Prometheus chains
the fire, sublimes the rock, and moves freely through space^
speaking his thought along the bed of the sea. But this con-
quest alone is not civilization. A German prince, travelling
in this country, saw a stonebreaker by the wayside, and
observed, ' He is a true conqueror ; he rises on the ruins he
makes.' Does merely material progress produce this efiect
upon man ? We doubt it. The domination of the sensible is
of itself a species of grandeur, but it does not express all we
mean when we use the word civilization. Nor, if we alter the
term, and speak of intellectual progress, do we exhaust
its whole meaning. It is moral, as well as intellectual and
material, or it hardly deserves to be honoured. Unless our
moral acquisitions keep pace with industrial and scientific
progress, we are so much the less civilized. Our sympathies
ought to be wider, our wills stronger, our morality higher and
clearer, or it is of little use that we know more, can reason
better, and talk fluently about the law of continuity and the
variegated woof of things. Thus all definitions are faulty.
Civilization varies like colour, but like light it is a compound^
and history is its re- distributing prism. It is not what we
can do, but what we are, what we feel and not what we pos-
sess, the character of the individual as well as the ^agpiitude
Civilization and Health. 195
of the nation^ the sweep of the mind as well as the greatness
of its visible results, the sensitiveness of the moral power as
well as the freedom or completeness of oar ecclesiasticism,
that constitute civilization. It is of no use pointing to
imports and exports if the people are miserable, to giant
mechanisms if our minds are mean and shrivelled, to great
cities if they only serve to breed disease and sin, or to our
marvellous acquaintance with the constitution of the sun if we
are ignorant of the common laws of life, and legislate as
blindly as the despots and Parliaments of the dark ages.
We have pressed home these few obvious considerations,
because we cannot fail to discern that a readiness to sing
paeans to civilization on every fitting or unfitting occasion is
working disastrous results, vitiating our imaginations, and
withdrawing our attention from problems that we ought to
face and solve, ere their self-solution brings confusion and
dismay. We have previously dealt with certain political
aspects of the question,* and we now propose to glance at
some of the physical ones. A true civilization should bring
all a man's powers, or a nation's powers, to the same high level.
The industrial ought not to debase the intellectual, nor the
moral the physical, nor the social the individual. There
ought to be no combination of good architecture and bad
masonry. Life ought to have some rhythm and proportion,
and we ought to keep watch and ward on every known evil
and possible source of imperfection. It is of little use per-
petually making inductions that satisfy our vanity, unless we
turn elsewhere and reason freely about those that shoulH
deepen our humiliation. We can do the first any day of our
lives, amidst the shows and panoramas of things visible and
tangible ; but we less frequently see the shadows, the dark
lines of the spectrum, the high price we pay for our external
progress. The traveller, who mounts a pyramid, does not
think of the numberless human beings that perished in the
work of its construction, any more than the open-mouthed,
rustic, bewildered by the bustle and magnitude of modern
city life, busies himself with speculations as to the tendencies
behind all he sees, and the vast waste-heaps, or kitchen-
middens, that our civilization offers to the exploration of the
curious and the philosophic. We are proud to call our
progress a conquest, and point to the decay of plagues, of
barbarisms, of famines, and of cruel struggles for existence,
temporary supremacy, or the raw materials of commerce. But
there is the abyss on the other side ; there are new diseases,
« " The Limits of State Action."— J/«/»9ra, No. 44.
196 Cwilimtion cmd SeaUh.
degenerationSj new orimesj neglected lawa^ early deaihs^
insanitieB moral and material^ and the fierce race and rash of
thinfftj bearing down the noble and the brave^ the porOj the
gooa, and the true. Suppose an intelligent nomad amongst
us^ civilised in mind, beyond us in the ranee and sweep of his
physical knowledge^ or at any rate capable of putting it to
more heroic praoti(^ service. What would he think of us f
We may crush it down into a sentence, ' Surely these people
are mad I ' He would say we were wise enough to know how
much air an adult ought to consume in the tweniy-four hourSj
yet cramped him in workshops, and rooms, and narrow streets,
80 that he could not possibly g^t it, or, if he managed to get
it, only in a smoke-contaminated condition. He would
remark that we knew the importance of water, yet polluted
our rivers by sewage or manufiEkcturing refuse; could tell
precisely how much food was necessary to support life, and
yet paid small heed to its purity or its goodness ; believed in
virtue, yet cared more for convicted vice, bodily, than for
struggling honesty ; understood the physical harmony of the
body, taught its principles of action m our special schoolfl,
yet allowed one part of our system to bear all the strain, and
brought up our youths in ignorance of the mischief such a
course of action inevitably produced; gloried in the progress
of our laree towns, and the low deatii-averages of most of
them, without understanding the real agents, their possible
failure in the future, and the steps necessary to raise the
health of the town-bred, as well as preserve the character of
the reserves upon which we are so constantly and insensibly
drawing; deprecated infanticide, yet made no effort to
diminish the terrible mortality amongst the children of our
thickly-populated districts ; and preached the sanctity of life,
whilst we increased its anguish by our competitions, dimi-
nished its vigour by our luxuries, excused its lassitude by our
inventions, heightened its sensibility by our cultivation, and
shortened its duration by our compression.
So heavy an indictment would not be absolutely true^ and
yet it w6uld be justifiable to make it, seeing that we are at
present more amusing ourselves with palliatives than with
actual remedies, and painfully yield attention to all who seek
to startle us from our somnolency. In many directions we
are astir, wisely resolving to combat with the dangers that
beset us ; but our efibrts are without system, we theorise
where we ought to act, and whoever would proclaim a crusade
is deemed an alarmist, and finds himself in rude collision with
public bodies, vested interests, and defiant ignorance. The
medical men of our large towns could tell us much had they
OiviUzaUon and Health. 1^97
time^ but they devote themselyes steadily to abating tha
eflfects of evil rather than removing their canses^ and as yet
there is no professional chair devoted to public hygiene to
give them the necessary stimulus in their early student life.
Thus the large field of social and sanitary science is irregularly
worked, and the toil is of the most thankless character.
Reformers are never so much esteemed as discoverers ; they
irritate men^s minds, and do not feed their vanity or lull their
consciences. Social science for the million is laughed at by
cultivated persons who would die of ennui without a summer
health-tour, break down in their duties continually without a
private physician's advice, and perish in a year in one of their
workmen's cottages or labourer's abodes. They will flock in
crowds to hear speculations about flint-weapon-men, glacial
epochs, or the wandering of Sirius; but discuss sewage, phy-
sical education, agricultural labourers, compulsory samtary
enactments, or the alarming growth of cities and towns, and
they cease to be interested, or pronounce them vulgar, or get'
into a passion, or become arrant sceptics, or endeavour ix>
discomfit an opponent by a joke and annihilate him with a
maxim. This neglect or distaste can be measured in another
way. Compare the number and position of serials dealing
specially with these questions with those devoted to simple
amusement or the furtnerance of class interests, or the relative
proportions of physical and general subjects discussed in
ordinary ' heavy' periodicals, or in Parliament.
Let us, however, deal for a time with a real problem, and
do our best to divert attention from other subjects to one that
is of vital concern for us all. We refer to the growth of our
large towns, and the manner in which they are affecting the
national health and character. The subject is an old one, ever
recurring, and yet almost inexhaustible. We live in an age
of great cities and towns. The stream of population sets in
toward them from all points of a wide circumference, and year
by year they go on increasing in bulk and numbers. Streets
are added, green fields disappear, and the mighty mass
moves outward, with far-reaching antennce, as though it pos-
sessed a consciously conquering spirit. The new comers are
mostly from the agricultural districts, attracted by the promise
of higher wages, more regular employment, and a gayer,
brisker life. The greater proportion of them are young men
and women, or newly-married persons with small families, who
have acquired a good stock of health elsewhere. We may
quote here to advantage one of the parallelisms drawn by Mr.
Herbert Spencer in his clever but somewhat fantastic essay,
'The Social Organism,' because it illustrates the infljxs-^asii^
198 Oivilizatwn and Health,
spoken of, though more intended to show the character of
commercial movements :— -
*In the lowest societies, as in the lowest creatures, the distribution of ernda
nutriment is by slow gurgitations and regurgitations. In creatures that hare rude
vascular systems, as in societies that are beginning to have roads and some transfer
of commodities along them, there is no regular circulation in definite courses ; bat
instead, periodical changes of the currents — now towards this point, and now towards
that Through each part of an inferior mollusk's body the olood flows for a while
in one direction, then stops and flows in the opposite direction ; just as through a
rudely organized society the distribution of merchandise is slowly carried on bj
ffreat fairs, occurring in different localities, to and from which the currents perio-
aically set Only animals of tolerably complete organizations, like adTanoed
communities, are permeated by constant currents that are deflnitely directed. In
living bodies, the local and variable currents disappear when there grow up great
•centres of circulation, generating more powerful currents, by a rhythm whidi ends
in a quick, regular pulsation. And when in social bodies there arise great centres
of commercial activity, producing and exchanging large quantities of commodities,
the rapid and continuous streams drawn in and emitted by these centres, subdue all
minor and local circulations : the slow rhythm of fairs merges into the faster one
of weekly markets, and in the chief centres of distribution, weekly markets merge
into daily markets ; while in place of the languid transfer from place to pUra,
taking place at first weekly, then twice or thrice a week, we by and by fti daily
transfer, and finally transfer many times a day — the original sluggish, irr^golAr
rhythm becomes a rapid, equable pulse.'
Something very much resembling this is constantly going
on about our large centres. They draw to them, as we have
said, constant supplies of men and women from the surround-
ing districts. The tendency of population everywhere in a
healthy community, not devastated by war or averse from
marriage, is to go on rapidly increasing; but the natural
rate of increase itself will not explain the growth of English
towns, and those who have watched the history of any one
place for twenty years or so, will readily admit the influx in
question. Where a new branch of manufacture springs up,
or starts into rapid development and prosperity, this immi-
gration can be seen and felt. Where it simply draws from
other small towns, the effect is seen very speedily in diminished
stature and in remarkable precocity. The result of the ordi-
nary agricultural, or, as in the case of London, picked general,
immigration is twofold, — the death-rate is reduced, on the one
hand, and the new comers plunge, with a temporary impunity,
into all the gaieties and dissipation provided for a hard*
worked population, on the other. Life, social, commercial,
intellectual, is busier, and presses more heavily in these
great centres. With the mass there is either no time or
no disposition for refining pursuits, and their only relief to
a wearying repetition of crowded hours is a round of fierce
dissipation, in which all persons are agreed in admitting
the immigrant stands unrivalled. The general results of this
city life^ tempered though it may be by healthful relaxation^
OiviUzatian and HeaUhi 199
are well known. The body rounds earlier, or wastes earlier,
the complexion becomes sallow, or ashy pale, and the general
motions of the body are qoick and impulsive. Few things
betray habitat more than gait and the poise of the head ; it
takes a rustic recruit months and months of drill to walk with
his legs instead of lifting them up as though the spring had
fixed itself in its back; and, when he has learnt to walk well,
lie lets out the secret of his origin elsewhere. The nervoui
system grows in power and irritability, and hence physical
endurance, such as pure and continued muscular exertion
'entails, is lessened, but for short periods is increased, whilst
the brain can bear a tension that would drive a plain rustic
mad. Narcotic stimulants too often follow and increase this
irritability, and the increase does not tend towards real power.
But this is by no means all. Some of our large towns have
sprung up on healthy sites, and others on unhealthy ones,
and the manufactures carried on in them are firequently
unhealthy, bring the sexes together earlier than would
otherwise be the case, and with good wages lead to early
marriages and feeble offspring. The open spaces in our large
towns are few, the atmosphere is full of unconsumed carbon
and noxious gases given off from coal and in manufiftctures,
the water supply can no longer be taken from the springs
with impunity, and in a hundred other directions new evils
arise. When infectious diseases make their appearance, even
ordinary infantile affections, they rage with virulence in the
crowded parts. The food supplies have also to be carefully
watched, or human cupidity ^nll take advantage of common
ignorance. The interment of the dead, the cartage of refuse,
the removal of manures, the outlet of the sewage, all demand
attention. A constant fight has to be kept up by individuals
and by the authorities to provide for health, safety, easy
communication, and the punishment of the predatory and the
deliberately selfish. Need we wonder if, under such nicely-
balanced conditions, with such adverse forces about, in air
and water, house, street, soil, and food, health should suffer,
doctors flourish, children die, and men decay T Wealth, the
increasing number of medical charities, facilities for suburban
living, for baths, and the like, are to be reckoned as favourable
to health; but it is a moot point whether some of them do not
tend to hereditary deterioration by the preservation of the
sickly, who incur the responsibilities of^ parentage with a
recklessness that is quite appalling.
Of the fact of such town-growth there is no doubt. ' In
1811,^ says Mr. Bridges, 'there were fifty-one towns containing
above 10,000 inhabitants, and these towns contained twenty-
200 OMUmUm, aokd EeaUh.
four per oent. of tlie population. In 1861 tlbsre were 165 of
these towns^ containing forty-fonr per cent, of the popnlaticm.
In 1811 there were sixfceen towns over 20^000; in 1861 there
were seventy-two; containing nineteen per cent, of the
population in the first case^ and thiriy-eight in the second.
In 1811 there was no town in England, except London, with ^
population over 100,000; in 1861 there were twelve sudh
towns, and they contained one quarter of the population/ We
have not thereiore magnified the possibilities of deterioration
and evil. Nor is the £ftot of immigration less doubtfiiL
According to Dr. Morgan, of Manchester, if we divide the
population of London, Liverpool, Manchester, and Binning^
ham into two parts, those above and those below the age oT
twenty, more than half the adult population is immigrant.
Out of an adult population of 2,200,000, only 1,000,000 is
' native and to the manner bom,' or five out of every eleven.
The two places most noted for their highhealth->ratej or what is
almost but not quite the same thing, low death-rate — ^London
and Birmingham — draw ninety per cent, of their immigrants
from the agricultural and ten per cent, from the industrial group
of counties. Where there is no such agricultural inflrnr, or
conditions of labour aggravate ordinary town life, the death-
rate is correspondingly high, and more especially amongst
the in&ntile population whose viability is a pretty good test
of the general strength of the community. Thus, in Liverpool^
one out of every four children that are bom dies before it is a^
year old, and the death-rate is thirteen per cent, up to five years
old. In the cotton towns the rate is one child out of every five
up to a year old, and ten per cent, up to five years. In England
at large the average deaths for the first year are one in six,
and in some &voured agricultural districts one in ten, or for
the first five years exactly half that of Liverpool. Nor are
these survivors all ' the fittest ' — ^to use Mr. Herbert Spencer's
phrase for natural selection. In Liverpool the death-rate
drops to about the same as elsewhere between the ages of ten
to fifteen, where, curiously enough, it is alike— about 500 per
100,000 — ^in healthy and unhealthy populations ; but the rise
is gradual after that period, and at mature life (forty-five to
fifty-five) is 8,500 per 100,000. We have thus two markedly
fatal periods, that of infancy and that of reproduction, and
many of those who escape the perils of the first succumb to
those of the second. But we may judge of the health of
great towns in another way. Take the number of medical men,
and notice the rate of increase in their lanks, and how
rapidly it rises when a town passes 50,000 inhabitants and is
pretty prosperous. We should like to see the number ot
CKvilvuiHcn <md SeaUh. 201
ineffeotiyes amongst tlie adult malee tabulated in the same
way as in army returns^ and the number of days of
sickness in the year per head. We imagine this would startle
ns much more than a mere death return^ and possibly indicate
some of the recurring maladies to which the inhabitants of
large towns are Uable^ and which^ when not positively fatal^ so
iar undermine the constitution as to lessen all future power of
resistance to disease.
How are we to meet this problem f We cannot hinder the
influx into the great towns without impeding our industrial
civilization. We have to accept the fact, and make the best
of it. ' There are two forces available for the renovation of
society/ remarks Mr. Bridges^ 'the first is capital^ and the
second scientifically trained intellect ; ^ but at present neither
is employed. The manufacturer aocnmulateB wealthy too often
regardless <^ the lives shortened in his service^ and the landed
proprietor^ who mi^t influence him^ will not^ either by pre-
cept or example. We have professors by the hundred of all
things und^r the sun and about it^ but^ bo fSEur as we know^ not
a single chair devoted to hygiene or sanitary science. The
first thing we need is 'a consolidation and revision of our
whole sanitary legislafcion^' followed by a national system of
health inspection. ' The few medical officers of health whom
we at present possess/ says Mr. Bridges^ 'are elected by local
authorities^ not the l^eliest of electing bodies to choose men
resolute to put the laws against nuisances into force. More-
over^ by tne present system^ the outlying rural or semi*
manufacturing districts are utterly neglected. Two hundred
medical inspectors^ sufficiently^ not extravagantlv^ paid^
devoted exclusively to public work, trained not merely in the
ordinary curriculum, but also in a special course of hygiene,
would cost the country from £00,000 to £80,000 a year, half
the ct>st of the Leeds Infirmary, one-third the cost of an iron-
clad ship.' Ignorance must be combated by beginning at the
source, and incorporating 'a very short and very simple
catechism of health ' into our national curriculum. We must
have more breathing spaces in all our large towns, wider
streets, roomier houses, purer water, less adulterated food.
Working men are themselves active in shortening the hours
of labour, and the extension of the Factory Acts is curbing the
cupidity and recklessness of employers. The first duty of a
municipality is to make a town healthy; afterwards, let them
make it beautiful. Money is often wasted in fine public
buildings that would prove a much more remunerative invest-
ment if laid out in promenades, gymnasiums, cricket grounds,
and open squares. Local taxation is very much complaaned
202 OiviUzaHon and HeaUh.
of jnst now^ but tlirowing poor-rates on the consolidated fond
will not remove sources of disease and decay. We may afford
to laugh at alarmists^ and turn our science in any direction
but the right one so long as our population goes on increasing
at the present rate^ and our revenue shows few signs of
diminishing elasticity ; but there are two facts we ought to
bear in mind in all our forecastings — ^the first is, the growing
disinclination to marriage amongst the middle-classes, except
upon £300 a year, and the second is, the deterioration of our
reserve and agricultural stock. The first, if we are to believe
Professor Seeley, is akin to the main cause of the fall of the
Boman empire. Other empires fell through division and dis-
integration, as did the Saracen empire, the Seljukian empire^
the Mogul empire, and as the Ottoman empire is doing before
our very eyes. But Roman civilization was military, — that ia
destructive; it gained, but did not keep; won wealth by
conquest, and lost it in luxury. The real root of the evil was
a stationary population, and this was attested in the time of
Polybius and the Second Punic War. ' Julius OsBsar when
he attained to supreme power found an alarming thinness of
population. Both he and his successor struggled earnestly
against this evil. The grave maxim of Metellus Macedonicns^
that marriage was a duty which, however painful, every citizen
ought manfully to discharge, acquired great importance in the
eyes of Augustus. He caused the speech in which it was
contained to be read in the Senate : had he lived in our day
he would have reprinted it with a preface.^ The Lex Julia
was an enactment consisting ' of a number of privileges and
precedences given to marriage. It was in fact a handsome
bribe offered by the State to induce the citizens to marry/
The Professor adds, 'The same phenomenon — a stationary
population — ^had shown itself in Greece before its conquest by
the Romans.' The first effect of an industrial civilization is
to promote early marriages and large families ; the second will
be, we fear, to reduce both. The double danger deserves con-
sideration. We are keeping up our present rapid increase by
the first, and misery and degeneration so frequently succeed
that we are the more in danger of rushing to tiie other
extreme.
What shall we say of our reserve stock of health and future
town population f Our ' bold peasantry ' are far fix)m being
their country's pride ; they are its disgrace. The yeoman has
almost disappeared, and the agricultural labourer is worse off
than ever, and his class is more numerous. The sturdy and
adventurous seek a home and an independency in our colonies^
and leave behind the sickly and the spiritless. Wages are
Civiliaaiion and Hecdth. 203
low. Women and cUIdren are underfed, and all are miserably
educated. We have been joking about the matter hitherto,
and even now are not quite certain what to do with such
human specimens, most of our generosity taking the shape of
prizes at agricultural shows. But we must wake up, and
reach these classes in many ways. It is our duty to begin by
trying to improve the landlords. They must provide good
houses, and schools must be had somehow, either through
local rates, or by the Consolidated Fund. Something like
hope must be infused into these children of the land, and it
can only come by moderately and cheaply gratifying their
natural earth-hunger. To the peasant-soldier of Prance, says
M. Michelet, the acquisition of land is ' a combat ; he goes to
it as he would to the charge, and will not retreat. It is his
battle of Austerlitz ; he will win it.' There is no such hope
for the present agricultural labourer in this country. He has
only three openings ; to live and die like his father before
him, to press city-ward and lower wages, or to enlist as a
soldier and fight, if fighting there be, or serve his time out to
retire upon a pension and job away the remainder of his days.
And yet every peasant is an integer in our health-capital, and
ought to be tended as carefully and nourished as lovingly as
we look after our own children who are to be the sires of
future races. The agricultural counties of England are our
great hunting grounds. Towns will grow and large bodies
will attract ; but, unless the new comers bring health with
them, we may expect some decline of national prosperity,
which will be more gloomy than the failure of our coal-fields,
more fatal than the paralysis of our manufacture.
We come now to more individual considerations. We have
complained that the term civilization should be used, and not
defined ; we have spoken of health, and never so much as
hinted at a definition. It will be difficult to find anything
better than what Mr. Bridges gives us. Here are two
definitions — ' the greatest energy of every part, compatible
with the energy of the whole ; ' ' Being able to do a good
day's work easily.' We prefer the fibrst one, because it seems
to us to avoid the fallacy, so common in some analyses, of
taking the rude savage as the type of health, or muscular
endurance as its one indispensable condition. There cannot
well be a greater mistake. A state of nature may render a
man's flesh firmer and more readily inclined to heal, and
enable him to do extraordinary feats, but it reduces him to a
compound of muscle, digestion, and sex. There is no balance
of functions ; animaUty is predominant, and the energy of the
brave is expended in the minor and more automatic directive
204 OwiUBation wnd HedUh.
functions. It is degraded^ and cannot be elevated without
years of culture and centuries of hereditary transmission. It
is not so with the muscular system. Bulk and fibrine may be
fects of inheritance^ but a healthy civilized man may acquire
physical strength in a thousandth pai*t of the time that it would
take for the savage to acquire brain-power. True health
varies with the character of the demands civilization makes
upon the organism. Where there is no polity to administer,
no excessive thought required in any one but the singer and
the story-teller, health is capacity for endurance, for hunting,
for war, for out-door life in the woods or the plains. But it
is folly to suppose this type of health is the only one. When
we shift the stress of life to another basis, we must make
another ideal, taking care to violate no ordinary conditions or
laws of life in its creation. A city merchant, or a professional
man, can get through an amount of mental exercise in four or
six hours that would positively destroy the brain of a wild
man by rupturing its vessels. In the state-of-nature man
dreams, he does not think, and his life is composed of violent
activities and temporary collapses. We find excessive
exertion produce the same efiect in civilized races. The
Greek athletas ate enormously and slept away half their time,
and yet they were healthy men. We doubt whether any
human being, who answers to the rude primitive health type,
would live as long as a modem whose life should not show
either physical or mental excesses. He wojild certainly be
unable to compete with a modem gymnast. We see, therefore,
that health has no fixed standard except obedience to the
simple laws of life, and if we would make it compatible with
a high industrial civilization, we must not attempt to restore
the nomadic type. There is plenty for us to do without such
eflTorts. As the Times very cleverly put it, in a leading article
Dr. Elam quotes, there are good playing and good working
constitutions, and the terms indicate the exact point of
difference between the old and the modem standard. We
can get a higher kind of activity out of the latter, and our
main duty is to see that it does not imperil the functions that
minister to it. To do this there is need of more physical
education than we at present think necessary, not only in
earlier life, but right through to full manhood. The virtuous
gymnast grows in height and breadth until his thirty-sixth je&r,
and there is no reason why a moderate amount of gymnastics,
of a simple and general kind, should not be indulged by aU
adult males up to and even beyond that period. The nervous
and muscular systems are beautifully adapted to each other,
and the exercise of the second soothes and clarifies the
(HvibkaUon and Healih, 205
action of the firsts wliilst the exhaustion of nervous energy
withdraws power from the muscles, and leads to their wasting
and softness. It is doubtful, however, whether we can ever
have the maximum of brain-energy simultaneouslj with high
physical energy, or a perfect balance of all thepowers, but there
is no reason why they should not alternate. TJie present writer
has been ridiculed by his friends many a time for conditioning
for extended mental efforts, but he has in every case
discovered its wisdom as well as its necessity. Where
physical exercise is taken in abundance, there may be short,
sharp spells of brain labour, but weariness soon supervenes,
and the body conquers the will. For months of continuous
labour it is therefore best, for days of intentional strain it is
impolitic to take excessive out*door or gymnastic exercise.
When the work is done, resume, with care,, the cultivation of
the body, and it will be soon found which plan is best.
' There has been a pastoral age, and a hunting age, and a
fighting age. Now we have arrived at the age sedentary,'
says Pisistratus Gaxton to Albert Trevanion, £sq., M.P. It
is quite true. We sit half our time, and then complain if we
are not strong. And here it is our duty to correct a common
error. Mentel pursuits are not unhealthy in themselves.
They as plainly tend to longevity as virtue does. ' Not long
ago,^ says Dr. Elam, ' a friend reviewed with us the names of
the six or eight upper wranglers for the last twenty years.
With very few exceptions, these and nearly all the '' double
firsf men are alive and well at the present time. A stronger
proof could scarcely be imagined that even excessive bram-
work has little or no destructive influence upon life and
reason ; if, indeed, it does not compel us to recognise its
directiy conservative tendency. Contrast this with the effect
of hard bodily training, as manifested in boating. We h»ve
complete and reliable information as to the history of two
boats crews of picked men, within the last few years, not one
of whom is now alive. Such havoc was surely never expe-
rienced amongst mental athletes.' This position is frirther
strengthened by tables and averages we nave not room to
cite. Hence we reach the general proposition, that what-
ever tends to ennoble life — art, culture, religion — tends to
strengthen and extend it. We see here the designing hand
of Providence. What, then, are the lessons oi this law ?
They are many. Good scholars are the sons of scholars.
Suddenly adopted studious habits, in an unprepared constitu-
tion, are hurtfol and often fatal. We must beware how we
overwork the young when the brain is tender, the bones soft,
the constitution unformed. We must extend our physical
206 OiviUzation and Health.
knowledge so as to be able to interpret the hints of the
body^ and take care to obey them. ' Not what is done, but
what is neglected, seems to be the fans et origo malorum.' If
the simple laws of health are despised^ the student will suffer^
no matter whether he be a divine or a materialist. The
worker^ also^ must learn to understand his own body, and the
condition of its highest labour. He must mistrust all sudden
bursts of inspiration, purchased at the cost of violated laws,
or by mechanical or chemical means. ' Spend on your genius,
and by system/ is a wise man^s advice to the few, that ought
not to be despised by the many.
A sadder part of our subject remains. It is not enough to
have pointed out the general tendencies of city life or sug-
gested how health may be improved ; we must take a glimpse,
and it can only be a glimpse, of the too frequently sad
physical consequences of civilization on the race. We are
just beginning to understand the laws of inheritance, to see
that what is a tendency in the parent may become a passion
in the oflfspring, to recognise that the moral writes itself out
in the facts of physical structure, and that when we desire the
emancipation of the will we must pay some heed to the
imperfections of organization. Dr. Elam has written an essay
on natural heritage that, in spite of hesitation and defect,
deserves to be widely read and seriously pondered. He is a
firm believer in the double law of inheritance, uniformity and
diversity, and illustrates its operation by many new and inte-
resting facts. Acquired and habitual vice, he says, transmits
its corruption just as much as physical disease, and the one is
not more potent than the other. K our cities breed a bad
type, moral or physical, the type is propagated, the one issu-
ing in criminality, the other in disease and extinction of the
special line. Diseases, according to Dr. Gull, are but ' per-
verted life-processes, and have for their natural history not
only a beginning, but a period of culmination and decline.
. . . . The effect of disease may be for a third or fourth
generation, but the laws of health are for a thousand J It thus
happens that the racial type tends, in the long run, to main-
tain itself, and all evil hindrances are eliminated, though at
an expense of life that is frightful to contemplate. So far as
we can make out, brain-power follows the law of uniformiiy
and physical imperfections also, but there are so many excep-
tions we cannot be absolutely sure which law will operate.
The sons of clever men, whose nerve-power has been ex-
hausted, are sometimes shallow and idiotic, and occasionally
a genius will start from an apparently obscure line. Very
much depends on marriage or inter-marriage, though we
/. 8. MUl on ' The Subjection of Women.' 207
cannot enter here into the lar^e question of consanguinity.
'Amongst ancient families qmck men are abundant^' ob-
serves Mr. Knight^ 'but a deep and clear reasoner is seldom
seen/ There is the luxury-imbecile^ as well as the imbecile
of the poor. The curiosities of inheritance are^ indeed^ mani-
fold. A physical affection in the parent may become a mental
one in the offsprings or vice versa, and Jewesses of ravishing
beauty will spring from parents inexpressibly ugly. Inde-
pendently of directly vicious tendency, inherited from parents.
Dr. Elam calls attention to the enfeeblement of will which
follows the use of nervine stimulants or indulgence in sensual
delights. This is unhappily so common as to need no facts
to 3lustrate it. We see gifted men swayed, like aspen
leaves, by every breath of impulse, and criminals influenced
by an imitative instinct to a most remarkable degree.
Our criminal epidemics are due to this enfeeblement of
the wills and possibly some of the wonders of mesmerism
might be referred to the same cause. ' Some persons,' says
Dr. O. W. Holmes, the American medico-novelist, 'talk
about the human will as if it stood upon a high look-out, with
plenty of light, and elbow-room reaching to the horizon.
Doctors are constantly noticing how it is tied and darkened
by inferior organization, by disease, and all sorts of crowding
interferences; until they get to look upon Hottentots and
Indians — and a good many of their own race too-— as a kind
of self-conscious blood-clocks, with very Umited power of
self-determination; and they find it as hard to hold a child
accountable in any moral point of view for inherited bad
temper^ or tendency to drunkenness, as they would to blame
him for inheriting gout or asthma.' But we cannot pursue
this sad and complicated subject further, and must leave its
lessons to enforce themselves. ' Each of us,' again to quote
Dr. Holmes, ' is only the footing-up of a double column of
figures that goes back to the first pair. Every unit tells, and
some of them are plvs, and some mi/nv^. If the columns don't
add up right, it is commonly because we can't make out all
the figures.'
J. S. MILL ON ' THE SUBJECTION OF WOMEN.'
THE shades of Mary Wollstonecroft and La^ Morgan are
avenged. The fingers that penned the ' Vindication of
Women's Bights' in 1791, and 'Woman and her Master'
in 1840, belonged to minds of no common order; but none
208 /. 8. Mill on ' The Subjection of Womm.^
would liaye been more intensely gratified than thoae litenrf
champions of their sex^ could thej have foreseen the aniYal <»
^ the nour and the man ' 4n the publication of this mastoriij
essay by one of the ruling intellects of his day. He oan
command what they oould not — an audience of which the
great majority is composed neither of sneerers nor triflaiB;
and whatever influence such views are qualified to ex^rt on
the reformation of society^ cannot but be largely and imme-
diately exerted^ when the integrity and ability of the advooate
are acknowledged by the civilised world. And it admits of
no doubt whatever that the thinking part of the communis
is settling down in earnest to the consideration of the cause
he has undertaken. Old commonplaces are receiving a rigid
sifting^ and old prejudices are melting before an hone«t desire-
to look the facts folly in the face^ and to do what is best for
both great sections^ male and female^ of the human race.
We shall first of all attempt to discharge our duty as
reviewers^ by presenting a condensed statement of Mr. MilPa
train of reasonings following up this epitome by some reflec-
tions of our own upon Mr. Milr s argument and the question
at large.
Undue prolixity cannot be charged against the author <rf
the ' Subjection of Women/ for ISb discussion occupies bufc
four diiapters^ barely extending to 188 pages^ in leaded type;
and in thus compressing his advocacy he has been g^ded bj
a judicious regard to the nature of the subject and the state
of the public taste. A big book^ however great the name
upon it^ would have been little read, and Mr. Mill^ within the
bounds of this short treatise^ has said nearly all^ in substance^
that can be advanced in the maintenance of his proposition*
The meat is strongs if there is not very much of it; and
those who are not satisfied \nth its quality would have turned
away with disgust from an ampler dish. Without a word of
preface Mr. Mill commences his first chapter by stating his
object to be to explain the grounds of one of his earliest
convictions — ' that the principle which regulates the existing
social relations between the two sexes — the legal subordina-
tion of one sex to the other — is wrong in itself and now one
of the chief hindrances to human improvement ; and that it
ought to be replaced by a principle of perfect equalify^
admitting no power or privilege on the one side nor dis-
ability on the other.' This task, he says, is very arduous^
for it has to contend with feelings ' the most intense and
most deeply rooted of all those which gather round and pro-
tect old institutions and customs.' Ordinarily the burden of
proof is allowed to be with the aJB&rmative, and on those who
J. 8. Mill on ' The Suljectum of Women.' 209
contend for restrictions or prohibitions ; bat in this case the
principle of female subordination is supposed^ from universal
usage and popular sentiment^ to have a presumption in its
favour ' superior to any conviction which an appeal to reason
has power to produce in any intellects but those of a high
class/ But the authority of men over women did not spring
from ^ a conscientious comparison between different modes of
constituting the government of society ' — ^though, even then^
the original considerations mighty in the roll of ages^ have
ceased to exist ; but the present system rests on theory only,
and was never the result of any experiment or design having
the good of society as its object. ' It arose simply from the
fact that from the very earliest twilight of human society,
every woman (owing to the value attached to her by men,
combined with her inferiority in muscular strength) was found
in a state of bondage to some man. Laws and systems of
polity always begin by recognising the relations they find
already existing between individuals. They convert what
was a mere physical fact into a legal right, give it the sanc-
tion of society, and principally aim at the substitution of
public and organised means of asserting and protecting those
rights, instead of the irregular and lawless conflict of phy-
sical strength.' Thus originated the system of legalised
slavery, slowly yielding at last to those ideas of justice which
have also changed the once universal slavery oi women into
a milder form of dependence, but a state having, after all,
no other or higher source than the law of the strongest. It
is this fact which seems so incredible to the general public,
who, because the law of the strongest is no longer professed
as the ground of action, cannot suppose it to operate here.
Yet, in former ages, the law of superior strength was the rule
of life — a rule only modified by compact and promise, or by
the growing strength of the once inferior classes. Military
despotism even yet extensively flourishes, despite splendid
examples of the contrary system; and it is not, therefore,
surprising that the dominion of man over woman, though
having no other origin than brute force, should have con-
tinued to our own time. This is a power in which the whole
male sex is interested, who have peculiar reasons for main-
taining it, while ' each individual of the subject class is in a
chronic state of bribery and intimidation combined.'
To the objection that the government of the male sex is
natural, and hence unlike slavery, etc., Mr. Mill replies, ' Was
there ever any domination which did not appear natural to
those who possessed it ? ' Slave-rule, absolute monarchy,
and the very law of force itself, have all seemed natural.
Vol. 12.— iVb. 47 0
210 /. 8. Mill an ' The Subjection of Women.'
because common ; and ' tlie subjection of woman to man
being a universal custom^ any departure from it quite
naturally appears unnatural/ To another objection — ^that
the rule of man over woman is not one of force, but
accepted by woman voluntarily — Mr. Mill replies, that a
great number of women do not accept it, as appears from
numerous protests and agitations ; and many more, it may
be presumed, would cherish similar aspirations if not taught
to repress them as contrary to the proprieties of their sex.
'It must be remembered, also, that no enslaved class
ever asked for complete Hberty at once;' and women are
not likely to rebel collectively against the power of men^
because their masters 'have put everything in practice to
enslave their minds,' — ^training them in the belief of an ideal
of character the very opposite to that of man ; ' not self-will,
and government by self-control, but submission, and yielding-
to the control of others ; ' and this means of influence the
selfishness of man has used to the utmost by representing to
wom^en 'meekness, submissiveness, and resignation of all
individual will into the hands of a man as an essential part of
sexual attractiveness/ But the whole progress of society is
opposed to the doctrine of man's government of woman, for
tnat progress has consisted in casting-off the notions of a
fixed condition of life irrespective of individual capacity and
choice ; and if the principle of free competition is right, ' we
ought to act as if we beUeved it, and not to ordain t&it to be
bom a girl instead of a boy, any more than to be bom black
instead of white, or a commoner instead of a nobleman, shall
decide the person's position through all life — shall interdict
people from all the more elevated social positions, and from
all, except a few, respectable occupations/
The fact that the condition of woman has been approaching
nearer to an equality with that of man, during all the pro*
gressive period of history, ofiers a presumption, though not a
proof, that complete equality must be attained. To say that
' the nature of the two sexes adapts them to their present
functions and positions, and renders these appropriate to
them,' is met by Mr. Mill with the denial that any one knows,
or can know, the nature of the two sexes, as long as they
have only been seen in their present relation to one another.
' What is now called the nature of woman is an eminently
artificial thing — ^the result of forced repression in some direc-
tions, unnatural stimulation in others.' The subject is one on
which 'nothing final can be known so long as those who alone
can really know it, women themselves, have given but little
testimony, and that little mostly suborned.' We know, he says.
/. S. Mill on 'The Subjection of Women.' 211
next to nothing of women as they are, and ' the greater part
of what women write about women is mere sycophancy to
men ; ^ even literary women, ' in this country especially, are
themselves such artificial products that their sentiments are
compounded of a small element of individual observation and
consciousness, and a very large one of acquired associations ; ^
and so it will remain ' as long as socia,l institutions do not
admit the free development of originality in women which is
possible to men/ Room for trial must be afforded : ' ,One
thing we may be certain of — ^that what is contrary to women's
nature to do they never will be made to do by simply giving
their nature free play/ Those who speak of wifehood as the
natural vocation of woman, yet act as if they believed that it
would not be chosen were women permitted other means of
support and occupation.
Chapter Two treats of the marriage contract and the harsh
conditions as to the woman formeny affixed to it — even yet
' the wife is the actual bondservant of her husband ; no less
so, as far as legal obligation goes, than slaves commonly so
called/ All her property is his, and even the contrivance of
marriage settlements merely preserves the principal from the
husband's control, — ^the income is his as soon as it falls into
his wife's possession. What is hers is his ; but ' the maxim
is not applied against the man except to make him responsible
to thirdf parties for her acts, as a master is for the acts of his
slaves or of his cattle. I am far from pretending that wives
are in general no better treated than slaves ; but no slave is
a slave to the same lengths, and in so full a sense of the word,
as a wife is.' Over their children she never has any legal
rights ; even after he is dead, she is not their legal guardian
unless by will he has made her so. If she leaves him he can
compel her return, or he may seize whatever she may earn or
otherwise receive. A judicial separation can only now be
obtained in cases of desertion or of extreme cruelty. Liberty
of re-marriage is even then not allowed. 'No amount of ill-
usage, without adultery superadded, will in England free a
wife from her tormentor.' Mr. Mill discriminates between
the wife's legal position and her actual treatment ; and the
marriage-tie aflTords the strongest example of the 'feeUn^s
and interests which in many men exclude, and in most greauy
temper, the impulses and propensities which lead to tyranny;'
but the elements of good do not justify the potentialities of
evil. No institution is to be judged of from its best instances,
and in every grade of the scale from virtue to vice are to be
found men to whom are committed all the le^al powers of a
husband. The wife is subject to personal violence, on which
212 J. 8. Mill on 'The Subjection of Women.'
there can be little check unless after a first or second conyic-
tion she should be entitled to a divorce^ or at least a judicial
separation. Mr. Mill pourtrays in very eloquent terms (pp.
64-66) the misery to which, short of the worst excesses^ the
lust of power may subject its domestic victims; and he
eulogises the value of putting the bad propensities of human
nature under such legal restraints as may induce their repres-
sion, ' until repression in time becomes a second nature.^ He
grants the wife^s power of retaliation, which has 'the &tal
defect — ^that it avaus most against the least tyrannical supe-
riors and in favour of the least deserving dependants.^ The
corrupting eflfects of marital power are tempered by personal
affection, a common interest in children and others, the wife's
real importance, and her acquired influence by familiar inter-
course ; but much of the power thus exercised by the wife is
for evil, because without regard, and often in opposition, to
interests outside the domestic sphere. To the objection that
a deciding authority must rest somewhere, Mr. Mill replies
that, of two persons, one needs not be absolute master, still
less needs the law decide which of them it shall be. It does
not do so in business partnerships. 'The natural arrangement
is a division of powers between the two ; each being absolute
in the executive branch of their own department, and any
chanee of system and principle requiring the consent of both ;'
and tne practical decision might greatly depend, ' as it even
now does,' upon comparative qualifications — age, mental
characteristics, and the like. The objection that wives would
never be satisfied with anything short of unlimited sway, is
answered by the popular admission that women are better
than men, and by their self-sacrifice for the family good. The
wilful woman is ^ven a fictitious advantage by the law as it
is, since it ' practically declares that the measure of what she
has a right to, is what she can contrive to get.' Mr. Mill
argues that the equality of married persons before the law is
' the only means of rendering the daily life, in any high sense,
a school of moral cultivation,' the ground of which must lie in
that sense of justice which claims nothing which is not as
freely conceded. Mr. Mill admits that numbers of married
people, probably a great majority of the higher classes, ' live
in the spirit of a just law of equality ; ' and he claims the
support of such for the principles he advocates. They must
not imagine that this spirit of equality prevails with others
because it does so with themselves. The objection that ' reli-
gion imposes the duty of obedience ' on the wife, is rejected
as an aspersion on Christianity. On the right of a woman to
her own property, Mr. Mill lays down the rule that ' whatever
/. 8. Mill an ' The Subjection of Women.* 213
would be the husband's or wife's if they were not married
should be under their exclusive control during marriage/ and
where the family's support depends on earnings ^ the commou
arrangement, by which the man earns the income and the
wife superintends the domestic expenditure, seems to me the
most suitable division of labour between the two persons/
Yet faculties specially adapted for some other pursuit might
be exercised where provision was made against loss to family
interests.
In chapter Three Mr. Mill advances to consider the admis-
sibility of women to ^ all the functions and occupations hitherto
retained as the monopoly of the stronger sex.' The objection
of a mental inferiority in women is shown to be irrelevant,
since competition would prevent ^important employments
from falling into the hands of women inferior to average men
or to the average of their male competitors. The only result
would be that there would be fewer women than men in such
employments ; a result certain to happen in any case, if only
from the preference always likely to be felt by the majority of
women for the one vocation in which there is nobody to com--
pete with them.' In advocating the right of women to the^^
Parliamentary and municipivl suffrage, Mr. Mill sepai-ates this
question from that ' of competing for the trust itself.' Since
Mr. Mill wrote this paragraph the law has conferred the
municipal franchise on women, and the use they make of this
trust will, no doubt, have a powerful influence in determining
the question of their admission to the Parliamentary elector-
ship. That women are qualified for the higher professions
and public offices, Mr, Mill argues, because of what they have
done — their faculty for government having been shown, he
contends, in a signal manner ; and he asks, ' Is it reasonable
to think that those who are fit for the greater functions of
politics are incapable of qualifying themselves for the less ? '*
Women's talents have a general bent towards the practical,
arising out of their keen intuitive capacity — a power of per-
ceiving what is immediately before them j and thus they not
only are preserved from many forms of speculative error, but
are peculiarly qualified to carry the results of speculation into
practice. The greater quickness of apprehension shown by
women also fits them for the promptitude necessary in prac-
* Mr. Mill, while he omits all reference to Isabella of Spain, a tranacendant
example, refers to Queen Elizabeth as haying showed herself equal to the greatest
political duties; though Froude's exposure of her yacillation and caprice, at
grave political junctures, must make her a dangerous illostration. For an
equallj sufficient reason Queen Mary I. and Queen Anne must be left out of the
exemplary account.
214 /. 8. Mill on ' TI^ Bubjedion of Wome^.'
tical life ; and to the objection that their nervous susceptibility
renders them ' mobile^ changeable, too vehemently under the
influence of the moment, incapable of dogged perseverance^
unequal and uncertain in the power of using their faculties,'
Mr. Mill replies (pp. 111-119) with exceeding ingenuity, if not
with convincing success. To the objection that woman has a
smaller brain than man, Mr. Mill replies that the fact is
doubtful, and that size of brain is only one source of power —
activity, in which women excel, being another. As to mental
diflerences between the sexes, Mr. Mill strenuously denies
that we know, or at present have means of knowing, ' whether
there are any natural diflTerences at all; or, supposing all
artificial causes of differences to be withdrawn, what natural
character would be revealed.' The supposed demonstration
of such a difference and inferiority — ^the absence of any
woman's production in philosophy, science, or art, entitled to
the first rank — he vigorously grapples with in order to show
that the admitted fact does not warrant the induction. The
argument is pursued (pp. 128-141) with Mr. Mill's accustomed
subtilty, and the considerations he advances are well adapted
to weaken the reader's confidence in the popular conclusion,
though we cannot regard them as supplying an adequate
explanation of the fact. It is one thing to show that failure
may be traced to such and such conditions ; it is another to
oondude that ihe conditions have led to the failure. Even
the conditions, where operative, if freely accepted, may be
considered as evidence of idiosyncracies at variance with
supreme excellence and distinction. Mr. Mill, however, is
fairly justified in claiming that nothing shall be assumed as
absolutely true till opportunity has been afforded for the
appearance of disproof. On the subject of moral differences
between the sexes, Mr. Mill accepts the compliment that
women are better than men as proving, if a fact, the corrupt-
ing influence upon men of the power they possess. That
women are swayed by their personal partialities is a result
due, he asserts, to their training. That they do not complain
of their subordinate condition may b© true, but the same is
true of all cases of servitude; it is the tyranny, not the
tyrannous power, which is at first complained of. ' Women
cannot be expected to devote themselves to the emancipation
of women, until men in considerable numbers are prepared to
join with them in the undertaking.'
Chapter Four is an answer to the question, ' What good are
we to expect from the changes proposed in our customs and
institutions ? ' Mr. Mill alleges ' the advantage of having the
most universal and pervading of all human relations regulated
J. 8. Mill on 'The SvhjeeHm of Women? 215
by jastice instead of injostice' — ^fche eSacts of existing injns-
tice being to foster ' a self-worsbip of the male,' wnicli
generates pride, overbearingnesa, and domestic oppressioD.
All that edacation and ciyuisation are doing to efface the
influence of the law of force on human character is antago-
nised by the legal subordination of women — ^the law of me
strongest. Mr. Mill alleges as a second benefit the ' doubling
the mass of mental facnlties available for the higher service
«f humanity,' — a result arising partly from the better and more
complete intellectual education of women, and partly from
the expansion of the facoltiea which greater freedom would
ensure. Women would also exert a better moral influence on
society, becaose they would take in a larger range of objects,
and bring to bear upon the philanthropic agencies the;
espouse a more enlightened knowledge of the causes and
remedies of social evils. The influence of wives would also
operate, not as it now ofben does, as a drag on the higher
aspirations and enterprises of their husbands, but as an
incentive and sapport, because they would be more willing to
encounter those sacnflces of social conveniences and con-
siderations which they have been taught to regard as their
worldly idols. A marked effect, Mr. Mill contends, would
also follow in diminishing those differences of sentiment and
taste by which the harmony of the married life is now so
frequently disturbed, and its benefits reduced. Sympathy and
gradool assimilation of character ' would be a common, if not
tbe commonest, case in marriage, did not the totally different
bringing-up of the two sexes make it next to an impossibility
to form a really well-assorted union.' The deteriorating
effect on the husband of a union with a woman his inferior is
described; and Mr. Mill avows his conviction that 'the moral
regeneration of mankind will only really commence when the
most fundamental of the social relations is placed under the
rule of equal justice, and when human beings havo to cultivate
their strongest sympathy with an eqoal in rights and in culti-
vation.' Tnen enters in a consideration of ' the unspeakable
gain in private happiness to the liberated half of the species ;
uie difference to tnern between a life of subjection to the will
of others and a life of rational freedom.' Women deprived
of this freedom ask for compensation in power, which foments
a 'passion for personal beauty, anil dress, and display, and
all the evils that flow from it in the way of mischieToal
luxury and social immorality. The lovo of power and tb
love of liberty are in eternal antagonism. Where there I
least liberty the passion for powor is tho most i ^ '
onscrupulouB.' How much, too, of womanly Ii
216 /. 8. Mill on ' The Subjection of Women.'
for 'want of a worthy outlet for the active faculties/ com-
pelling many to resort to nncongenial pursuits^ and confining
more to a limited range of activity for which they have no
educated aptitude and skill. Mr. Mill concludes by calling
upon men not to add 'jealous and prejudiced restrictions' to
the evils which nature inflicts; and by asserting that 'any
restraint in the freedom of conduct of any human fellow-
creatures (except otherwise than by making them responsible
for any evil actually caused by it) dries up pro twnto ther
principal fountain of human happiness^ and leaves the species
less rich^ to an inappreciable degree^ in all that makes life^
valuable to the individual human being.'
Having now done justice to the exceedingly able produc-
tion of Mr. Mill by reproducing all its leading points, clothed
and coloured, as far as within our limits was possible^ by the
author's ipsisslma verba, we shall place before the reader
some reflections, as a stimulus to his own thoughtful prose-
cution of the subject. We shall not insult him by supposing
that he belongs to the silly crowd, still too large, who think
the question raised by Mr. Mill one to be dismissed by
monkey-b'ke caricatures and miserable jibes. It remains^
and will not be disposed of, till the ripest judgment and
purest conscience have been brought to its determination.
But it will strike every impartial observer, as it strikes us>
that the question raised is really a compound or multiform
one, and that without waiting till we are agreed upon some
abstract formula — such as the right of women to do, if they
can, whatever men are now permitted to do— there are in-
equalities which may, by a general consensus of opinion^ be
removed without delay, and grievances which ought at once
to be swept into the limbo of banished abuses. Here^ indeed^
our main objection to Mr. Mill's method demands expres-
sion— that he has argued an abstract thesis rather than
pleaded for practical reforms. His thesis is, in effect^ ' The-
subjection of women ought not in any shape or degree to
exist ; ' but it would have been more to his ultimate purpose^,
and a greater help to the reader's understandine of the
subject, had he begun with showing the forms which this-
subjection takes^ and the evils which^ in detail^ each of the
forms can be proved to generate or aggravate. The evils
having been made apparent, the call for assistance in the
removal of the special causes would have fltly followed ; and
some clue would have then been afforded to the order in
which it is desirable to proceed in the progress of reform,
Mr. Mill does not expect society to start from a theory of a
perfect equality of the sexes : that, if ever arrived at, ¥rill be
/. S. Mill <m 'The Subjection of Women.' 217
tlie formal conclusion of a series of experiments showing
that woman is entitled to do what is best for herself in the
school and arena of life. Any theory about equahty is, in
reality^ rather a drawback than an auxiliary at this stage of
the movement on behalf of woman : for who can determine
whether the sum of woman's capacity is ever equal at any
one time to man's ? — ^and apart from any question of mental
equality, she has rights the exercise of which law and social
opinion ought not to obstruct, but to sanction and facilitate.
Neither is it necessary to prove that she is equal to all situa-
tions and responsibihties, in order to show that she is equal
to much from which she is now precluded. The law needs not
define, nor wait till men ana women have defined, what
degree of connubial power they shall respectively have in the
settlement of disputed points, before it proceeds to blot out
those monstrous grievances &om which woman suflTers — ^not
because of mental weakness, but from her inferior physical
strength. Had Mr. Mill pursued an analytic method, we
should have received from him a greater number of valuable
suggestions, and he would have aroused in the minds of even
sympathetic readers fewer emotions of dissent. Mr. Mill
aims to be scrupulously clear and exact, and that he succeeds
in an extraordinary degree is known to all who peruse his
writings ; but we have wondered while reading this essay at
the inordinate value which is placed upon a change of law by
one who insists, as much as any contemporary writer, upon
the efficiency of individual infiuence. The promise which
a woman makes when married to 'obey' her husband is
treated by Mr. Mill as a sort of legal charm, which operates
to subject her at all times, and on all subjects, to the will of
her legal lord, consulting his pleasure only or mainly, and
subordinating all her efforts to the one aU-comprehensive
purpose of making the best of a very bad bargain. But is
married life in England cast in such a mould 7 Do husbands
exact obedience as lords 7 and do wives render it as subjects 7
Mr. Mill admits that men do not generally use the power the
law gives them ; and if they tried to use it, we may add, the
women would not let them. There is, we own, much brutality
on the part of men, and very much tyranny of a petty yet
wearing kind ; but this is rarely if ever exhibited becavse it
is known to be according to law; the worst excesses are
known to be otherwise; and we cannot perceive how any
change of law, by relieving brides from the spoken pledge to
obey their bridegrooms, could materially mend the matter.
Bad men and women make bad husbands and wives, and will
do so whatever theory is uppermost concerning the sexea^
218 /. 8. Mill on ' The Subjection of WomenJ
and that man^ we tliiiik^ can have had small insight into the
private life d our countrymen who does not admit that the
happrness of home depends on affections^ habits, tastes, and
an adjustment of dispositions over which no theory of con-
nubial equality can exercise a perceptible effect. Mutual love
is the great sweetener, purifier, and beautifier of the married
life ; it is a power which leaves the law of force nothing bat
the name; and where it is absent, whether the law of the
land recognises man^s authority and woman's subjection, or
not, there will be contention and every evil work. All this
being true, however, it is none the less desirable that married
women should obtain all such protection and command over
their property as may, where they are badly mated, preserve
them against the grosser abuses of superior strengui. The
bill brought into Parliament in the last Session by Mr.
Russell Gumey will soon become law, and will be followed by
other legislation for which a good case can be naade oat.
There are bad wives, however, as well as bad husbands, and
legislation will be required to guard men, as far as law
can do, against the otherwise ruinous consequences of their
frail partners' excesses.
An increasing friendliness is also manifest by society to
measures for enlarging the sphere of female industry and
talent. Mr. Mill lays comparatively small stress upon the
admission of women to public offices, to some of which they
would be scarcely likely to aspire. For some others they are
eminently fit ; and we may confidently look for a growing
liberality of sentiment that will enable many trials to be
made where statute law interposes no impediments. Unmar-
ried women above age, and widows, have already a wide field
for their exertions in business of all kinds, and in some of the
more elegant occupations. Domestic service is filled with the
sex ; and so far as subjection is concerned, it would be difficult
to prove that except in married life, to which we have adverted,
and in some of the professions and political offices, women
have to profess or learn lessons of submission from which men
are free. In household arrangements they both reign and
govern. They train their children and command their servants,
often male ones. When, unmarried or widowed, they embark
in business, they do as they please with their property; and
in the cultivation of the fine arts they may go on, as quickly
as possible, to perfection. In some respects it is more
sympathy, and not more independence, that they chiefly call
for and would mainly prize. We cannot make up our minds
that throwing open to them all the pursuits of men, or pro-
claiming them equal in all respects to their masculine rivals.
Report of Convocation on Intemperance. 219
would produce either the individual or social results predicted
by Mr. Mill ; yet we heartily rejoice to see that society is
preparing to redress the wrongs they have endured, and to
give heed to that assertion of their rights which they and their
advocates make on their behalf. We re-echo Mr. Mill^s
appeal to men to take up their sisters' cause, and to render it
early and generous help ; nor must we fail to call upon women
themselves to unite for objects they approve, in which the
advantage of their sex is materially involved. They cannot
in any other way more nobly repel and refute the charge, that
they are naturally unfitted or indisposed to take part in
public movements demanding comprehensiveness of mind and
perseverance of endeavour.
EEPORT OP CONVOCATION ON INTEMPERANCE.
IF it be said that he who moves the clergy moves the world,
this may be viewed either as a compliment to the office of
the minister of religion, or the reverse, according to the
standpoint occupied. That the heralds of the Cross should
also be the heralds of every social reform demanding self-
denial and a holy courage, is certain ; and that if they fulfilled
their function to the fidl, they would always be in the van of
the army of social progress, and so have the whole world of
motion following them, is also certain. To move them,
therefore, would be to move the world, and to admit this
would amount to a high compliment on the position occupied
by the clergy. If, however, on the other hand, they choose
to be, not in the van, but in the rear of the army ; or, to
vary the figure, to constitute the tail of the community,
instead of being at its head ; still it might be true that to
move them would be to move that huge beast, the world, on
the principle of tail-wringing, too well known to cruel drovers.
Now, whether the clergy of the Church of England in this
respect have placed themselves so as to be the Head, or form
the tail, it would ill become the politeness of Meliora to
pronounce; and she is thus spared the necessity of con-
sidering what process might be proper for producing the
indispensable movement, — ^whether persuasion to the head, or
wringing and screwing at the other extremity. By one process
or the other, the thing is now done ; and we are very much
220 Report of Convocation on Intemperance.
pleased to be able to announce to tHe world at large^ that tlie
clergy are actually moving.
The proof of it is before us. The ' Report by the Com-
mittee on Intemperance for the Lower House of Convocation
of the Province of Canterbury' is here, a goodly tome,
actually printed and circulated by order of the Lower House.
The book contains also copious appendices, and is in every
respect a noteworthy and valuable volume.
It seems that a committee was appointed, and afterwards
re-appointed, in pursuance of the directions of His Grrace the
President, and their Lordships the members of the Upper
House of the Convocation of the Province of Canterbury, * To
consider and report on the prevalence of intemperance, the
evils which result therefrom, and the remedies which may be
applied.' It is the report, thus authorised, that the Lower
House has adopted and ordered to be circulated. The
members of the committee were : — The Prolocutor, the Deans
of Canterbury, Chichester, and Westminster, the Archdeacons
of Coventry, Ely, Exeter, Leicester, Nottingham, and Salop,
Canons Argles, Cams, Gillett, Harvey, Oxenden, Wood, and
Dr. Fraser, and Prebendaries Gibbs and Kemp. The chair-
man of the committee was the Venerable Archdeacon Sandford
of Coventry.
The inquiry was entered upon from no shallow impnlse^
and was shut up within no contracted range. As its subject
most deeply and vitally affects the material condition
and the moral and spiritual life of the people of this
country, so the committee sought to deal with it, as bearing
this commonsurately in mind. They sent out letters of
inquiry profusely to all parts of the twenty-one dioceses in
the .Province of Canterbury, embracing thirty-two English
counties, besides Wales, North and South, with a popu-
lation of between fourteen and fifteen millions of people.
To the parochial clergy these letters were sent, of course;
but not to them only. As far as possible, also, medical
and other sources of information were communicated with in
all the parishes, including persons of every class whose posi-
tion or practical experience could entitle their evidence to
most weight. To the governors and chaplains of prisons, to
the heads of constabulary, to the superintendents of lunatic
asylums, to the judges, recorders, coroners, and the masters of
workhouses, forms of inquiry were transmitted; and the
bounds of the province were transcended in some directions,
so as to reach to the asylums, and to the judicial personages
of all England and Wales, and to the constabulary throughout
Great Britain. Moreover, in vaiious parts of the conntiy
Report of OonvocaUon on Intemperance, 221
enlightened and benevolent proprietors of territory or works
have been consulted. Thus the utmost respect is due to the
inquiry^ as far as regards its outreach and scope ; and the
report resulting from it is entitled to be regarded as express-
ing the judgment not alone of the parowiial clergy of the
province, but also collaterally of persons of intelligence and
experience throughout the realm.
The evidence thus collected shows, in the first place, that
whilst the evil of social intemperance has of late years greatly
diminished in the upper and middle ranks of society, no
corresponding improvement has occurred amongst the labour-
ing classes ; that thus drinking prevails to a frightful extent
in our commercial, manufacturing, and agricultural districts,
and in the army and navy ; and this, not alone amongst men,
but amongst women, and not only with adults, but with the
young also. In many parts of the country the evil begins at
a very early age, and youths and children are amongst its
victims. Of the clergy returns before the committee, one
speaks of intemperance as beginning ' early '/ one, at nine
years of age ; eight at twelve to fourteen years ; one at thirteen ;
seventeen at fourteen ; twenty-nine at fifteen ; forty-eight at
sixteen ; forty-three at seventeen ; ninety-seven at eighteen ;
and only eight at twenty to thirty. 'It begins with their
boyhood and grows with their growth,' says one. ' At the
first harvest after they go out to work,' says another. ' As
soon as they go to work in the hayfield,' says a third.
'About the time the lads enter into the club,' says a fourth.
' From childhood,' says a fifth. ' It is almost impossible,'
another says, 'to find out the earliest age at which it begins ;
in some cases, it is to be feared, at a very early age indeed.'
Another writes that ' boys seem to inherit it from their parents.'
'I have known a boy who worked for me steal money to
spend in drink,' writes another. Another testifies that ' boys
of fourteen have been made drunk by beer given them in the
stocking-irame shops and the field.' Another, that ' lads of
fourteen years of age may be seen, alas ! on Saturday nights,
after receiving their fortnightly pay firom the works, in a state
of intoxication.' Another says, 'I believe children are
speedily drifted into intemperance, and that publicans encou-
rage them. I have seen in a public-house on Sundays a room
lined all round with boys of from twelve to sixteen drinking.'
Still another: 'As soon as the lads can earn anything, they
are, I know, enticed into the public-houses or beershops, to
smoke and drink, and become reprobates very soon.' ' Say
twelve,' says still another; 'the statutes settle this point
very young. Boys and girls get drunk^ debancliery and
222 Repcrt of Oowvocation on Intemperance.
defilement are the results/ And from governors of work-
houses comes also corroborative evidence with regard to the
growth of intemperance amongst women and girls.
Foremost among the direct causes of the evil^ the committee
place the Beer Act of 1830, which gave licensing power to
the Excise ; a power that an act of the late Session of Parlia-
ment has happily taken away. ' The testimony on this point/
says the committee, alluding to the evils of the beerhouse
system, ' on the part of the magistracy, the constabulary, the
parochial clergy, and other persons most competent to judge,
is most emphatic and unanimous.' But beershops were
called into existence, as the committee very justly adds, ' to
correct mischief already deemed intolerable, resulting from
the licensed public-houses and shops of the country, so that
the beershops only aggravated an existing malady.' ' It also
appears,' say the committee, ' an unquestionable fact that in
proportion as facilities in any shape for procuring intoxicating
liquors are countenanced and afforded, the vice of intempe-
rance and its dismal effects are everywhere increased. That
this would be the case has been continually maintained by
members of the community desirous of the repression of
intemperance, and extensively acquainted with its phases and
workings. This conclusion the evidence he/ore your committee
amply confirms.' ' Tour committee therefore wish to record,
as their deep and rooted conviction, that the multiplied and
increasing facilities for obtaining intoxicating liquor, provided
by the law, are so many licensed temptations to the excess so
fnghtfully prevalent and working such dire and disastrous
results amongst our people.' The attractions of these
facilities have been much augmented during the last fifty
years by the addition of singing and dancing saloons, besides
gaudy gin-palaces and ubiquitous beershops, that have been
multipHed with terrible rapidity. Men of wealth, position,
and infiuence have developed an ever-increasing interest in
the consumption of intoxicating drinks ; large capitalists own
public-houses let at high rents, and compel their tenants to
resort to all sorts of inducements to cultivate drinking habits
amongst the people. Even prostitution is catered for by
many keepers of beershops and low public-houses with this
view, and ' thousands of young persons are in this way enticed
to their ruin.' The licensing law, so full of anomalies, so
variously administered, its restrictions so continually set at
nought^ and its violations so seldom punished, adds to the
evil. ' With a system so faulty,' say the committee, ' a law
so loosely and irregularly applied, and such abundant and
increasing encouragements to intemperancOj the spread of
Beport of Convocation on Intemperance. 223
this vice throaghoat the conntiy oannot be a matter of
surprise/
Turning to indirect causes of the eyil^ the committee allude
to various trade and social usages known to act as temptations
and incitements to intemperance ; such are^ the conducting
of bfiCrgains^ making of payments, and transacting business at
public-houses; the part-payment of wages in drink ; the custom
of paying ' footings ' in drink ; the circulation of drink at
auction sales ; the giving of gratuities in drink or for drinking;
and the practice of drinking at marriages, christenings, and
other festive occasions, and at Amerals. Stress is laid on the
noxious tendency of holding benefit and other clubs at public-
houses ; and on the connection of drinking customs with mopps
and £Eiirs, with tithe dinners, and even with the belfries of
churches. ' The vicious arrangement ' at inns and hotels is
pointed out, ' by which commercial travellers are induced to
order and drink large quantities of wine for the good of the
house, a custom often fatal to the integrity and health of the
persons so affected/ After these come the billeting of
soldiers and militiamen at public-houses, the supply of
grog to soldiers and sailors, the encouragement given to
intoxication in connection with recruiting practices, the
adulteration of liquors, and tha neglect of duty by the police.
On almost all these heads evidence is printed in the appendix
to the report.
And here, in due order, should have been inserted some
reference, afterwards suppUed, to the unwise prescription of
alcohoUc drinks by medical men, as tending very largely to
the promotion of intemperance. A coroner writes that ^ the
physicians of the present day who prescribe such a large and
nnnecessary amount of stimulants are by no means to be
exempted from blame in this matter.' The superintendent of
an asylum alludes to ' the almost indiscriminate exhibition of
stimulants which is too much the fashion among medical men
at the present day, a fashion which I consider most pernicious,
both morally and physically, but which, like other fashioms,
will probably have its day, though its effects will last for more
than a generation.' ' My experience,' writes another gentle-
man filling a similar position, 'is that of the leading physicians
of the day, viz., that the total disuse of alcohol, and the sub-
stitution of beef-tea and milk, constitute the best possible
treatment — ^rest of body, and rest of mind, are, of course,
essential to the cure ; but the old belief that alcoholic stimu-
lants could not be withdrawn altogether without danger to
the patient, has been generally abandoned.' And the evidence
of a very large number of governors of gaols and worl ~
224 Report of Convocation on Intemperance.
and cliaplains of prisons is quoted afterwards^ to show that
the health of persons suddenly compelled to abstain from these
drinks invariably improves.
In the great apple districts^ cider appears again and again
as the worst enemy of the labourer, who receives no mean
part of his wages in that useless and deleterious liquid. ' The
practice which prevails at harvest/ says a coroner, ' of giving
labourers a quantity of drink as an inducement to greater
exertion, is very much to be deprecated. Labourers^
naturally enough, think if their masters will furnish them with
a quantity of drink for their own purpose, they may exceed
now and then on their own account.' The governor of a
workhouse states that the farmers in his locality — an apple-
growing one— pay very low wages, but indulge their labourers
throughout the summer with an unlimited supply of cider ;
some with three or four gallons each per diem. 'To this
system may be attributed the great number of cases of dropsy,
rheumatic affections, and more cases of lunacy than can be
found in any other county with the same population ; and it
is chiefly with cases of tUs description that our workhouse is
crammed.' 'After many years' experience in my present
position,' he adds, ' I cannot but feel convinced that cider is
the curse of the county. The labourers should be paid in cash
instead of cider.' ' The allowance of cider to a labourer at
harvest time,' says a clergyman, 'is two ^Uons and a half
a-day, and the result is that the state of semi-intoxication
thus induced becomes habitual.'
Again, one clergyman states that 'the annual club-feast
teaches many to drink, and confirms them in drunkenness ; '
another, that 'the practice of benefit societies and 'friendly
clubs meeting at public-houses, and charging each member
for drink, is a cause of much mischief.' ' Much drunkenness
is produced in this neighbourhood,' says a third, 'by the
obliging of members of break-up clubs to spend a certain sum
in beer on the monthly nights of payment at the village inn/
And the governor of a workhouse says : ' The regulated
so-called benefit clubs or societies held at public-houses have
been a snare and a delusion ; disappointment and the work-
house have often been the result. I believe that nine out of
ten of our aged inmates are in this case ! '
With reference to statutes and fairs, the Bev. Naah
Stephenson, M.A., Vicar of Bromyard, supplies the following
firightful paragraph : —
* When the business of the day has drawn to a close, the pleasitres of theereniiui
commenoe. The inexperienced Lad and lass, with the fruits of their last yemi
labours in their pockets, are natorallj led for the purposei of refirethmeal to IW
Seport of Oonvoeation on IrUenyaertmee. 226
unghboariiig publio-hoiue. Tbe plooe U filled to luBbcstioD with Tisitan — all in
tbe he^-di; of jouth — moit without moral n>[itrol, and all without the control of
maiters. or battara, or parents, or eldera in life. To tbe atupefjing efleoli of
tobacco ue added the in toxica ti Qg coQBequeQOsa of deleleriona beer and apirila. and
the maddening reiults of danoing and music. Each female select* her mole oom-
panion for the erening, whofe dutj it ii to aae her to her distant home at the oloaa
of the Bmusementa in the darknesa of tbe night. Deceooj forbida me from entering
into furihsr details, and I cannot pieture to joa tbe proaeedingi of the uight (o ito
close.' 'The ordinary restramls of the loweat dreg* of sooietj are aoarcelj
obHened ; and in the nineteenth century, and in Diriliaed, eniightenad. Ohristian
England, acenea of iniquity maj be witneeied that would de&le and dcpvde lh»
most debased of the heathtm naiiona of the earth.'
Mr. Humphries, superiatendeat of police nt Ejd^b Heath,
after sixteen years' experience, saya he ' believes statute-faira
to be one of tbe greatest evils in existence ; he has seen
married and single conducting themsalTes with the greatest
impropriety, and young girls — or lather children — stopping
all night, dancing and drinking, and allowing most indecent
liberties to bo taken with them.' Mr. Wild, superintendent
of police at Solihull, after Beventeeu years' experience,
declares that at these fairs 'young women stay late at the
public-houses, become elated with drink, and hence a great
deal of immorality on the road home.' Mr. Harris, inspector
of police in Henley-in-Arden, says : ' I hare had every
opportunity of witnessing the demoralieing effects of the
statute-fairs in this neighbourhood, and have always con-
eidered the system bad in itself, as encouraging drunkenness
and other crimes, and tending to the utter ruin of great
numbers of the youth of both sexes.' The chief constable of
Warwickshire says he has caused inquiries to be made
throughout the county, and is informed by the officers that
they are unanimously of opinion that statute-fairs are
productive of a great amount of crime, drunkennessj and
debauche^ ; and that on female servants they have a most
baneful effect, many cases of bastardy having come under the
notice of the police, resulting from in^roper intimacies at or
Tetuming from statutes. And the ^ffht Honourable Lord
Leigh, Lord Lientenaat of Warwi^shire, says : ' The
revolting appearance and openly impudent conduct of the
young men and women whom I have met returning home
after statute -fairs, have disgusted me to the highest degree,
and when I met them at a tolerably early hoar, and knew that
they were only the forornnners of many who would bo
returning home in a more degrsdeil r^niLtiun •itill, and gtill
later, I deeply regretted to tLi.iK .Im« Hi. ooosoquiRioes
most bo to tno morals ond " " " ■■ -
country.'
With regard to rec
Vol. U.~Ne. 47 '
226 Biport of Convocation on Intemperance.
points ont {hat the recruiting of the armj is conducted
entirely in public-houses^ whereto the recruits are inveigled
by 'bringers,' who are crimps of the worst description^
touting about in all the lowest haunts of a town. The recrdits
are habitually plied with drink^ and are generally under
the influence of liquor when they enlist. They are also
deceived by false expectations as to the amount of tbeir
remuneration^ and are induced to make false representations
as to their age and condition. As the recruiters are paid so
much per head^ they have a pecuniary interest in the gains of
such objectionable practices. ^As soon^' Sir Charles Tre-
Telyan says^
' Aithe recruits reoeire ibe bountj-money, their oomradei get round them« and
it is drunk awaj ; so that the man not onlj gets drunk himself, hut makes the men
of his companj drunk too, unless he keeps the money to enable him to descnrt;
with a view of getting another bounty elsewnere. The recruiting serjfeants, being
lodged in the lowest houses in a town, where they meet only the lowest characters^
become depraved; and even good non-commissioned officers, after haTinff
been employed on recruiting serrioe, frequently return to their regiments disaipatea
in habits and appearance, and greatly in debt. . . . The hoid-money paid to
zeoruiters is the mimediate stimulus to the tippling and swindling of the recruiting
system. ... Of course, it is extremely difficult to keep together an turmj
which has been got together by such an utterly immoral system of recruiting. . •
Becruiting ^oufd be dissociated from drunkenness by providing proper piaoee in
each district where the recruits may be received until they can be lorwarded to tho
dep6t battalions. ... A reference to the evidence will show how open wo
are to the reproach of tainting our soldiers at the outset of their career, and with
tiiat vice which is the cause of most of the crimes in the army, and of flie flogging,
branding, and other punishments which too often complete their demoralisation.'
On the score of adulteration^ one clergyman reports that
there is 'very little pure beer.' Another states that 'com-
bined with tne means used by publicans to excite men to
gamble and spend their money on drink^ is the salting of ale^
which increases thirst.^ Another alludes to ' the horrible beer,
that is drugged to excite greater thirsty and so increase con-
sumption.' Another writes : ' I found myself a large quantity
of tobacco in the bottom of an old beer-cask^ bought second-
hand as a water-cask for my garden ; ' and another declares
that 'tobacco is used in large quantities' for the purpose of
adulteration. 'There is reason to believe/ says another
reverend gentleman, ' that every barrel of beer is drugged
more or less;' and another mentions coculue indicus^ as
amongst other deleterious ingredients 'known' to be added
to beer and ale. By another, the beer commonly drunk at
public-houses is reported to be ' so bad that I would not drink
a glass of it for a crown ; ' and by another, the climax perhaps
is reached, when he says : ' The publicans adulterate fearfully.
All sorts of filth, such as horse-flesh and tobacco, found at the
bottom of the barrels when returned to thebreweiy.' Tho
Beport of Convocation on Itd^mpmmce. 227
general opinion of all the witnesses seems to be tliat the beer
is thns made to have an extra thirst-producing instead of a
thirst-quenching power; and that thus^ as well as by vile
mixtures that add to its natural exciting and stupefying
effects^ the increased consumption of the article^ and the con-
sequent increase of drunkenness are largely, promoted. A
coroner is struck by what he c^^ems to be the &ct that ' as a
general rule. the lower orders get intoxiqated.much jnore fre-
quenUy^ early^ cheaply^ and rapidly than ihey did in my early
time ; and I cannot but think that the impurity of Hxq beer^
now too generally retailed^ has much to do with this^ as well
as with the great increase of insanity among the lower orders
in country villages/
The testimony is almpst equally profuse with regard to the
corruption of the polipe by ithe publicans. One clergyman
writes : ' I have noticed that a new policeman is very sharp
for the^ first few weeks,, with public-houses^ but after that he
lets them ^one. I believe they are bribed in one way or the
other^ and thus , shut their eyes to a great deal/ In con-
nection with this^ however^ it might be stated with truths that
laxity in dealing with publio-houses is often the result of the
discovery the young policeman makes early^ that the pub-
licans have friends pn the bench^ and that other magistrates
are very deficient in zeal for the proper punishment of public-
house law-breakers. However^ one clergyman declares that
' the publicans in too many cases buy over the police, who
are afterwards afiraid to inform against them.' 'There is no
doubt/ another remarks, ' that the late alehouse is an almost
unconquerable snare to the weary policeman.' 'Police/, writes
anpther, ' connive at much that is wrong. If for awhile they
stand firm against the temptotion of having drink forced upon
them by publicans and tipplers,. they usually get into drinking
ways at last. Several policemen, have been appointed to this
parish in the thirteen years of my ministry ; nearly all have
been sent away through the influence of drink directly or
indirectly, and several of them dismissed from the force in
consequence.' ' The whole of the evils,' says another reverend
gentleman,' are systematically winked at by the police, as they
say they had better not be always interfering.' ' My opinion,'
another says, ' is that the police are completely hoodwinked by
the publican, and that it is only when the latter refuse black
mail and get too outrageous that we have convictions. Police
should not be left too long on one beat.' ' The police,' we
are told. by still another witness, 'are unnecessarily corrupted
by the liquor-sellers. They are sometimes made drunk on
i
228 Report of Convocation on Intemporanee.
their beat bj publicans/ Evidence to this effect is hurgelj
given in one of the appendices to the report of the committee.
From the canses of intemperance^ the committee pass next
to the results; — 'many of the crimes and miseries which
disturb the peace of states and poison the happiness of families ;'
the depravation of character^ impairment of strength^ shatter-
ing of health and nerves, and premature death of thousands ;
the filling of prisons^ workhouses^ lunatic asylums^ and peni-
tentiaries ; and the prostration of the efforts and hopes of all
who have at heart the elevation and welfare of the people.
Amongst the usual products of intemperance are noted loss of
health and intellect^ decay of strength, most frightful diseases,
and premature death ; the souring of the temper, the inflaming
of the passions, the brutalisation of the whole nature ; no
enormity of blasphemy in language, no turpitude of cruelty in
action^ to which drink will not incite even the naturally gentle
and well conducted; no family affections not blunted and
obliterated ; no tender relations not outraged ; to gratify the
craving for drink. And the sin of the parent is visited on a
stunted, sickly, debilitated offspring. In no country, perhaps,
is this vice so prevalent as our own. ' And unless remedies,'
say the committee, ' bo speedily and effectively supplied, con-
sequences the most disastrous to us as a people cannot be
long averted. No evil more nearly affects our national life
and character ; none more vigorously counteracts the spiritual
work of the Church ; and, therefore, no question more imme-
diately demands the zeal of our clergy, the attention of oor
statesmen, the action of our Legislature, and the thoughtful
aid of our philanthropists. Nor can any sacrifice be esteemed
too costly, or any efforts too great, to check and remedy what
may be shown by accumulated and undeniable evidence to be
sapping the foundations of our prosperity, blighting the future
and lowering the reputation of our country, and destroying
at once its physical strength and its moral and religious life.
In review of the inquiries of Parliament as to the evils caused
by this vice, and the conclusive evidence laid before its com-
mittees, it is a matter of surprise to us that the Legislature has
not long since interfered : and the statesman who should hare
magnanimity and moral courage to grapple with and wisdom
to overcome this stupendous evil, would confer an incalculable
benefit on his country, and establish a lasting claim to its
gratitude.'
Of the intimate connection between intemperance and
crime and pauperism, the committee treat at some length;
they show further what great injury to trade, what wilful
waste of resources, what useless consumption of precious
Report of Convocation on Intemperance* 229
grain^ what terrible sacrifice of human life^ besides what
huge loss to the military and naval services^ are
attributable to strong drink. That intoxicating liquors
may be suddenly and totally withdrawn, and the health
be not injured but benefited, is proved by reference to the
experience of prisoners and paupers. Lastly, in concluding
their long and terrible indictment of the liquor trafl&c, the
committee allude to the lowering of the national reputation,
the outrages and injuries inflicted abroad on other peoples by
British subjects, the obstacles interposed in the way of com-
merce and civilisation, ' and above all the obstruction to that
message of reconciliation and peace through heathen lands
and Christendom itself, of which this nation might otherwise
be the honoured emissary and agent.^
On the efiect of intemperance on the work of the Church,
the evidence, in an appendix to the report, is copious. ' Habits
of occasional intemperance,^ says one witness, ' keep men away
from church for a tiihe.' ' The apparent result,' another tes-
tifies, ' is chiefly neglect of the means of grace and ordinances
of religion.' ' Public-house keepers,' says another, ' rarely or
never come to church.' Another : ' There are families who
never attend Divine service ; they plead that they have no
decent clothes in which to come — ^the truth being that the
money which should purchase clothes is spent at the beer-
shop.' Another : ' Saturday night being the usual time for
drinking-bouts, men feel themselves unfit in every way for
attendance at church, and thus the Sunday morning congre-
gations include but a small number of working men.'
Another : ' All persons who frequent alehouses are irregular
in their attendance at a place of worship.' It might have
been more correct to have said that most persons who frequent
alehouses are regular in their non-attendance. Other wit-
nesses say : ' Many dare not face the pulpit.' ' Those who
drink most worship least.' ' One public-house only ; popula-
tion, 280 ; since the opening of the public-house the attend-
ance at church has been somewhat less.' 'Attendance at
church has been greatly increased with the decrease of in-
temperance among my parishioners.' Such are some of the
testimonies cited by the committee on this head. Another
witness says : ' I speak clerically, and say that intemperance
undoes all we can do for the moral improvement of the
parish; and magisterially, that out of every 100 cases, 90 at
least of the cases brought before the bench are directly or in-
directly to be traced to intemperance; and perhaps (having
been in practice for several years as a medical man, and holding
my diploma) I may speak medically, that vice caused to a
§30 Iteport of Convocation on Intemperance.
great extent by intemperance^ rainonsly affects the health of
numbers/ 'Intemperance/ says one clergyman, 'is very
prejudicial to religion, more than any other cause, and is the
secret source of backsliding among Christian converts/
^ People who indulge in drink,' says another, ' seem dead to
religion/ 'Almost all that is wrong in the parish,* says
another, ' wrong and irreligious, is traceable to drunkenness/
'It is,' says another, 'a fearful drawback in morals and religion ;
it ruins my senior scholars awfully/ 'The clergy every-
where,' exclaims still another, 'but in our large towns
especially, are discouraged, cast down, almost driven to despair
through the universal prevalence of the vice (of drinking), and
the temptations that are multiplied for its encouragement on
every hand under the protection of law; it thwarts, defeats,
and nullifies their Christian schemes and philanthropic efforts
to such an extent^ that it is becoming a matter of grave
question whether infidelity, religious indifferences, and social
demoralisation, are not making head against us in defiance of
all our churches, our clergy, our Scripture readers, and onr
schools/
Abundant as is the evidence on this head, it is exceeded in
amount very largely indeed by the voluminous testimony of
judges, recorders, police magistrates, and other competent
authorities, showing the overwhelming pre-eminence of drink-
ing amongst all the factors of crime. Lord Chief Justice
Bovill writes to the chairman of the committee :
' I have no hesitation in itating that in the North of Enghind, and in moat of
the large towns and the manufacturing and mining districts, intemperance is
directly or indirectly the cause of by far the largest proportion of the crimes that
haye come under my obserrationt Amongst a laree class of our popalataon
intemperance in early life is the direct and immediate cause of eyer^ kind o£
immorality, profligacy, and yice, and soon leads to the commission of crime. As
the ^oung of both sexes grow up, the habit of intoxication increases u^jcrti ihem,
and ineWtably lutds to crimes of yiolenoe of the most serious description, indudiog
murders, manshiughter, rapes, robberies, and violent assaults. In many osasi
these crimes are committed by parties under the immediate influence of diink.
In others, the fact of a man being intoxicated induces persons to take adTantage of
his state of helpless unconsciousness, and they afterwards escape punishment from
the inability of the sufferer to identify his assailants, or to know, or remember, or
to giye eyidence, of what has occurred. It is freauently yery painful to find
honest and well-disposed and hard-working men, who do not belong to the criminal
class, placed in the dock for serious crimes committed under the influence of
drink, and who, if they had been in possession of their senses, would nerer hum
thought of committing such crimes ; and still more painfid to a judge to hare to
sentence such men to long terms of imprisonment, to the ruin of themselTOS and
families.
* The cost to the country for the maintenance of the prisoners and their familiea
likewise becomes a matter of very serious importance ; and — ^looking also to the
wholesale misery that is brought upon the working classes by their indulging ia
intoxication, at first unfitting them for their ordinary occupations and tJtum
rapidly causing disease and want, too frequently insanity or death, and briiunDg
distress upon their fjuniliea, and considering the amount of pauperism as wou ai'
Bepart of Oonvoeaiion on Intemperance. 281
crime which is thus ooq^one^ — ^^ wonld seem to be the imperatiTo daty, m well
ms the interest, of the Htiate to endeaToiir to proride some remedy whicli will «sbeck
«o frightful an eril.*
Similar^ though in ma,n7 cases still more emphatic^ testi-
mony is given by a large nnmber of witnesses, including
governors and chaplains of gaols, chief constables, police
superintendents, and persons of evexy cl^ss likely to be well,
informed on this momentous subject. One head of police^
who attributes three-fourths of all crime to drink^ sots : ' I
have now been altogether tiiirty years a police officer in
different counties, and have had during that time soma
thousands of prisoners in my custody — a great many of them
drunkards — ^but not one total abst^ner firom intoxicating
drinks/ Another declares: 'Tfihie traffic in intoxicatinjg
drink is the great producer of crime. Sparce any crime is.
committed w^ch may not be traced to that cause/
A body of evidence, almost equally voluminous, shows the
causal connection of intempd^knce with pauperism. ' I c^n
trace nearly every case of family destitution to intemperance/
says a clergyman. ' There would, be no real poverty here,' says
a second, 'except from some illness, if there were no
drunkenness/ 'As chairman of the Board of GuardiauB/
writes a third, ' I testify that intemperance adds considerably
to the poor rate/ ' This Union,' writes a fourth, ' consisting
of 80,000 persons^ has to support 80 pauper lunatics, at a
charge of £20 per annum eaph. About two-thirds of these
cases have been traced to drink. Two or three cases of
pauper lunacy occur every year.' According to one governor
of a workhouse, 'eighty per cent, may be given as the
proportion of paupers who are the victims of intemperance/
Varying the phrase, ' eighteen out of every twenty,' according
to another. 'I have been master of a workhouse ana
relieving officer for eleven years, and during that time %
never knew a teetotaler apply for parochial relief,' says
a third ; and a fourth says, ' I am sure I am within the mark
when I G^y nine-tenths of the adult paupers are habitual
drinkers to excess, and the children are nearly all paupers in
consequence of the dissipated habitq of their parents. The
demoralising influence of intoxicating drinks I consider to bo
the most prolific cause of bastardy/ Another writes : ' All
i)aupers who have come under my cognizance have more or
ess been the victims of intemperance. I have never known
a pauper who was a total abstainer.' Another: 'An
abstainer £rom drink has not been an inmate for the last
twenty-one years that I have been master.' Another, who
declares he is not a teetotaler, says: 'I could alrnQst
232 Bepcrt of Oanvocation on Intemporanee.
say tliat every pauper inmate of a workliouse is made so
directly or indirectly through intemperance/ Another;
' Drink is the most prominent curse of the land. Besidence
in a workhouse three months would convince any one/ Very
few of the witnesses assign to drink less than two-thirds of
the pauperism; and a large number of them give eighty,
ninety, or a still higher percentage. ' It is a fact/ says a
workhouse governor, ^ that more extra labour will be done by
a pauper for half-a-pint of beer than for sixpence. Beer is
even a standard of value amongst the lowest class of poor.
Such expressions as ^' the price of a pint/' '' worth a pot/^
" stood a gallon/' are the usual modes of expressing value
among the pauperised poor. Dangerous, indeed^ mast be
that section of society (and it is a large one) whose standard
of value is the pot of beer.'
With regard to the large amount of disease, lunacy, and
sacrifice of life caused by drink, clergymen, superintendents
of asylums, and coroners bear strong and conclusive witness.
' My parish,' one clergyman writes, ' exhibits a very high rate
of mortality, chiefly among children, who are often bom in
an imperfectly organised condition, and badly nourished
afterwards, in consequence of the intemperance of the parents.
I am continually called upon to sign papers for lunatics
through drink.' Another writes: 'I have been directing
my attention for some years to the more permanent effects of
drinking habits, as tending to produce a depraved or debilitated
offspring, not only making the parents " nequioren/' but
" mox daturas progeniem vitiosiorem,'' I have collected some
very curious facts on this point tending to prove that not only
lunacy, but also other obscure diseases of the brain, may be
traced to intemperance of parents.' A superintendent of a
lunatic asylum says : ' I never knew a lunatic patient who
had been a total abstainer.' Another says : ^ If it is under-
stood as including all the results of intemperance, such as
poverty, vice, domestic unhappiness, etc., the proportion of
cases traceable to intemperance cannot, I think, be much
under 50 per cent.' 'To these,' another writes, 'must be
added an unascertainable number of idiots, imbeciles, eto.^
the offspring of intemperate parents, in whom the sins of the
fathers are visited on the children. The deplorable fsbct still
remains that a very large proportion of insanity is the
immediate or direct result of intemperance.' Of violent and
sudden deaths, according to many coroners who have been
consulted, a very large proportion are stated to be directly or
indirectly the results of intemperance. Other testimony
shows clearly that ' drunkenness is the vice of the army/
Report of OonvocatUm on Intemperance. 283
Of course, the various witnesses, in response to the request
for suggestions of remedies, sent in a copious variety, which are
represented in detail in long appendices; from these the com-
mittee have selected those that they deem to be most import-
ant and are prepared to recommend as practicable. Theso
divide themselves into the non-legislative, and the legislative.
Of the first class, the list is as follows : —
' 1. The remoTal of benefit clube from pablic-hoates, and Uie holding of their
meeUo^ in schoolrooms, or, where obtainable, in roonu especially proTided for
recreation and instraotion.
* 2. The discontinuance of the practice of paying wages or oonoluding bargains
in public-hoases, and the payment of wages on Friday, or early in the week, rather
than on the Saturday when there is more opportunity for drinking.
« 3. The proTiding reidly good tea and coffee-rooms, where wholesome refresh-
ment and other comforts may be enjoyed by the working classes at a cheap rate.^
' 4. The encouragement of cottage allotments, night schools for adults, parochial
libraries, workmen's dubs, and social gatherings — ^whether for mutual instruction
or amusement — in which kindly intercourse and sympathy between the difii^rent
dassee of society may be promoted.
'5. More comfortable, commodious, and healthy dwellings for workine men —
implying an abundant supply of light, yentilation, and water — it being well known
that a crayin^ for intoxicating liquors is created and increased by the closeness,
damp, and discomforts inseparable from the miserable and crowded apartments in
whicn many of them lodge.
* 6. AboTC all, there must be education in its widest sense and practical bearings,
and based on Dirine reyelation ; which will implant principles and impart tastes
that may serre to counteract and supersede the animai indulgenoe br wnioh many
are enslaved ; and which ought to be supplemented, as far as possible, by special
instruction on subjects bearing on domestic comfort and economy: on which
points, it must be admitted, that lutherto our national system of education has
been both inadequate and defectiye. What is required is an education, as
described by one of our coroners, " of a far more uniyersal, more common-place,
common-sense character than anything this country has yet seen." One of the
most thoughtful and sober writers of our day speaks scornfully of mere teaching
as " an empirical remedy " for intemperance. Another states, as a result of his
pastoral experience, that '*Bome of the best educated are the most drunken.'*
Eyen in highly ciyilised oonununities intemperance has been found oommensurato
with temptations to drink.
' The only education that can cope with these is one that shall oultiyaie not only
the mind but the heart, — whidi "shall embrace the encouragement by eyerj
proper means of a loye of home and home enjoyments — ss the natural and proper
counteraction of the seductions of the public-house— -and the general disseminstion
among the people of sound information as to the actual effects of our drinking
habits upon their moral, social, and physical condition.'*
' It may be hoped that in proportion as such an education is brought more
within the reach of our people— as its lessons are more adapted to their daily
needs and daily duties — as it affords training in the principles of health and of
social and domestic economy — those enjoyments may be found at home which are
at present sought by lo many in low haunts of dissipation. It is the testimony of
one who has hiad ample means of judging, that " not one female in twenty, of oar
humbler classes, is instructed in the ordinary duties of either a wife or a mother."
' In connection with such special teaching on the evils of intemperance — which
your committee are of opinion ought to form a branch of education in all our
schools — temperance societies, bands of hope, and young men's associations are
recommended by many of the clergy as haying proved, in their experience, of
signal benefit; while it is the almost universal testimony of those connected with
our criminal jurisprudence and the control of workhouses, — and, indeed,, of all
who have looked deeply into the iubjeot^ — that in tho case of persons addidad to
284 B&part of Oanvoeation on Intemperance,
intamperwoe, toUl abatinenoe from intoxioating drinki if, under Gtod» the only
effectual remedy.'
Legislative remedies also are suggested by tlie
mittee; convinced^ as they are^ ^that without an improFO^f
and stringent system of legislation^ and its strict enforcemeB^
no effectual and permanent remedy for intemperance can W
looked for/
' 1. The repeal of the Beer Act of 1830, and the total sapprewion of bear-
houses throughout the countrj.
' 2. The closing of public-houses on the Lord's day, except for the aocommodi^
tioD of bond fide travellers.
< 3. The earlier dosing of public-houses on week day erenings, in aooordanoa
with the practice now on the increase, of early closing m all other businesaeiL
Hore especially is this necessary on Saturday when, it is well known, intempe-
rance chiefly preyails.
* 4. A great reduction in the number of public-houses throuehout the kingdom,
it being in eridence that the number already licensed far exceeob any reel demand«
«nd that in proportion as facilities for drinking are reduced, intemperance wip^
its manifold eTils is restrained.
' 5. Placing the whole licensing system under one autl^ority, a|id adminiatering
it on some uniform plan which would haye for its object the abatement of eiMtfn(^
temptations to tippling and intemperate habits.
*o. The rigid enforcement of the penalties now attached, to drunkenness ^i^J^
on the actual offenders and on licensed persons who allow. drunkenneBB tp. oqep^>
•on their premises.
' 7. Passing an act to prevent the same person holding a musi<^ dandng, o^
billiard licence, in coi\juBCtion with a licence tor the sale of intoxicating drinGk
* 8. Prohibiting the use of public-houses os committee rooms at elections, aad^
closing such houses on the days of nomination and election in erery Parliii-
mentarr borough.
' 9. The appointment of a distinct class of police for the inspection of pubUo-
houses, and frequent risitation of public-houses for the detection of ad^ulteraticfi^
to be followed, on connction, by seyere penalties.
* 10. The repeal of all the ddties on tea, coffee, chooolate, and sugar.
'11. Your committee, in conclusion, are of opinion that as the ancient and
ayowed object of licensing the sale of intoxicating liquors is to supply a suppoeea
public want, without detriment to the pubHc welfare, a legal power of restramtnff
the issue or renewal of licenses should oe placed in tJie hands of the persons mo^,
•deeply interested and affected — namely, tiie inhabitants themseWes — ^who are
entitled to protection from the injurious consequences of the presept sjretom.
Such a power would, in effect, secure to the districts, willing to exercise it, th^.
adyantages now enjoyed by the numerous parishes in the proyince of Oanterbarj^
where, according to reports furnished to your committee, owing; to the influeuM^
of the landowner, no sale of intoxioating liq^uors is licensed.'
There still remaina to be noticed a large collection of testir
monies gathered from nearly fifteen hondred parishes in
the province of Canterbury, the names of which are given,
and wherein there is neither public-house nor beershop ; ' and
where/ as the committee remark, ' in consequence of the
absence of those inducements to crime and pauperism, accord-
ing to the evidence before the committee, the intelligencPj
morality, and comfort of the people are such as the friends of
temperance have anticipated.' It is upon this list of parishes,
and the reports sent in from observers on the spots, that th^
Report of Convocation on Intemperance. 235
•committee harre founded tlie last of their recommendations
for legislative remedies^ — identical, as our readers will have
noticed, with the Permissive Prohibitory Liquor Bill, of which
Sir Wilfrid Lawson is the well-known and able champion in the
House of Commons. Were we to cite half the evidence from
those prohibitory parishes, it would occupy many of the pages of
Meliora ; who must therefore content herself with producing
s, few of the witnesses, leaving the rest, — all similar in
their testimony, — to stand behind these invisibly, but capable
of being produced in court at once by any judge who may think
well to possess himself of one of the handsome but very low-
priced volumes in which the report and the evidence in full
are given.*
* I can only say that the benefits of ** no " pnblio-hoose or beersbop are rwj
perceptible, especially when I compare the moral condition of thia place with my
other parish where there are a poblio-house and two beersbope. Landlords aM
quite aware of the effects of beershops, as they seldom allow them to exist ia
parishes under their sole control, howeyer some may support them in Parliament.
Though there is no public-house here or near, no inoonyenienoe is felt.'
* The public-house was done away with about eleyen years aflo, shortly before I
became incumbent. I am assured thaQwhen there was a public-house it was th9
occasion of much intemperance, of muoh riot and disorder, and of much poverty
and distress. The names of many men can be mentioned who spent the greater
part of their eamiugs in drink, their wiyes and children suffering want in oonse*
quenoe. The peace and quiet of the village was disturbed by their drunkea
brawls, &o., while poaching and other offences were rife. From the experience of
ten years* intercourse with the people and residence among them, I belieye, I may
confidently say that we haye no habitual drunkard. I do not remember to haye
seen a parishioner in a state of intoxication more than once or twice, and the
freedom of the village from those riots and disorder which are, perhaps, insepar-
able from a public-house is yer^ observable and often spoken of with satisfaction.
. . . . I have no hesitation in saving that the abolition of the public-house
has been a great boon and an unmingled benefit to the place. It has contributed
very decidedly to the well being of the labouring inhabitants ; and I am moreover
confident that no real praotiod inconvenience has been experienced from itt
abolition.'
* When I entered upon my duties I found in this parish a publio-house, — and it
was a great nuisance, being chiefly supported by poaehers and other unruly
persons, — and subsequently, upon undertaking the duties of the adjoining parish,
I found another of the same deBoription, and with much difficulty I got rid of
both, and have hitherto prevented having a beerhouse in either ; and the result ia
that I have no drunkenness or disorder, and mv people soon found out the com-
fort. I thank Gh>d my efibrts have received their reward, and as lon^ as I can
preserve my infiuence there shall be neither public-house, beersbop, nor ginahop in
either of my parishes.'
' I beg to state that the fact of there being no public-house in my parish has, in
my opinion, been productive of great advantage. Though the wages are only tfao
average wages of an agricultural labourer, the people are, as a general mle, better
off and more comfortable in their homes than in a parish where lA alehouse ia at
hand Besides, speaking generally,. they are all well disposed on
religious matters, some, of course, more than others ; but all attend Divine
service, and the majority of them regularly. I have not, for some years, heard of
oocasional intoxication. A riotous (UsturMnoe is a thing almost unknown.'
* Report by the Committee on Intemperance, &o. London : Longman, Qreen,
Beade, & Dyer.
286 Report of Convocation on Intemperance.
* Hany yean ago there was a beerbouae here in whidi the yoang men used to
meet and get dmok. Many complaints haying been made, and eyery efibrt made
to stop the eyil, the beershop was turned into a cottage. There is now no
drunkenness nor disorderly oondact. Comparing this parish with two in which I
was curate, and where there are beershops, I can without statistics, posiUyelj
state that this is by far the most orderly and religious parish of the three/
* I used some years ago to think that it was a bad thing for the yillage haying
no pnblic-house or beershop in it^ for I thought men would haye beer (even those
who were not drunkards), and that when they had walked a mile or a mile and A
half for it they were tempted to stay longer and drink more than they would
haye, could they have got some beer at home. And at that time I was almost in
fayour of haying either a public-house or a beershop under strict regulations ; but
I haye quite altered my mind, and got to think that it is a blessing being without
one ; for I feel sure if we had a public-house in the place our people would
lounge into it on an eyening As it is, we haye no such thing as
drunkenness in the place.'
*No kind of intoxicating drink is in use in the parish, with rare exceptions.
Oar miners generally use weak tea with their meals ; and except on holidays there
is yery little drinking, and eyen then, only by persons who are not at all respected.
For seyeral years I ha^e not seen a man under the influence of drink. There is a
large, I may say a crowded, attendance at church. There is yery little of what
comes under the head of crime, and no case of lunacy in the parish. Our com-
municants, although not pledged, are practical teetotalers ; the members of the
New Connexion Methodists are pledged teetotalers, and most of the members of
the Wesleyan Society are, like the Church people, practical though not pledged
teetotalers.'
' I am happy to state that I consider it has been unquestionably of the greatest
possible benefit in a moral, social, and religious point of yiew, that we haye no
public-house or beershop. The farmers and myself always firmly and resoluteiy
oppose eyery attempt to introduce the opening of any such house ; and, althoagh
there is no public-house or beershop within two miles, none of the inhabitants
haye eyer complaiued that they suffer any inconyenience.'
' For eighteen years I haye been rector of this parish, — my predecessor thir^-
eight yoars, — and not a single instance of drunkenness has occurred — say for the
last mty-six years; not one of the parishioners has been brought before a
magistrate. I attribute this influence for good to the absence of public-houses
and beershops.*
' It is now four and a half years since our only public-house was burnt down»
and it has not been rebuilt We haye cause to congratulate ourselyes on this
oiroumstance. It was a resort for poachers and other bad characters in the
neighbourhood, who now seek shelter and protection from no one in this parish.
It was a great snare to the ^oung, who now, for the most part, attend night sdiool*
or stay at home, seldom linng the trouble to walk oyer a mile to a public-house.
I haye neyer seen a drunkard in the place. It is hardly possible to estimate tho
adyantage accurately.'
' During the fi^e and a half years I haye had charge of the parish, I haye neyer
seen a drunken man or woman ; nor haye I, saye in one instance, had occasion to
admonish any of my parishioners upon the sinfulness of the degradinff yice of
intemperance. The case to which I refer was that of a man whose wora lies in
the neighbouring town, where he is of course exposed to temptation. I firmly
belieye that in the case of drunkenness, preyention is better than cure. Mj
people do not care to walk a mile and a hair off* to the nearest public-house.*
' There is neither public-bouse nor beer«hop, and comparatively little drunken-
ness, except when carters or others go into market towns, when there haye l)een
cases of being overtaken The people are generally healthy, well
clothed, and comfortably ofi^. The attendance at church good. My other parish
has two beershops with licences not to be drunk on the premises. I cannot in
any respect spealc so satisfactorily respecting this a^ the otner. Both in a tem-
poral and spiritual point of yiew, the efiPect of these beerhouses is bad, and I
ahould be yer^ glad on eyery ground if some alteration in the law could abate the
present unsatisfactory state of things.'
Report of Oonvocatum on Intemp&ranee, 237
* We bare no real poTorty in the parisb, ihe labourers are in constant work —
bave woU-fumished cottages — and spend their erenings at home ; and though I
have had charge of the parish for more than eight years, I do not remember
haying seen a case of intoxication in it These MTantagee I haye no doubt arise
in some measure, at least> from the fact that we hare no public-hoose or beershop
in the parish.'
' It 18 with the sincerest thankfulness to the Girer of All Gh>od that I can state
that the adyantages haye been great in our ease During the eighteen
years I haye been in this parish, the health of the people has been unusually good.
. . . . There has not been one serious injury in it during the whole period.
The morals of the people are so free from any gross stains that I am at timef
afraid of their suffering spiritaally from their thinking too highly of themselyes.
They furnish no cases for the parish constable or policeman. Men working on
the roads leaye their tools by tne wayside when they return home for the nighty
without any fear of not findine them there in the morning. The people, without
exception, are decentlj clothed, and there has been no case of insolyencnr since I
came here. Bj applying to landowners, I haye succeeded in persuading them
to suppress three beershops in neighbouring parishes, and preyented the estabh^-
ment of another which was attempted. There are, therefore, now four contiguous
parishes here without public-bouses; and yery fayourably can I report of those
with which I am not officially connected. The improyement which results from
the absence of these temptations in our parish extends into other parishes around
it, and the change in the last eighteen years for miles round is yery eyident . . .
I haye ministered in large towns, and know something of the sins and sorrows
that abound there through this one cause. If this eyil could be suppressed, idiat
might we not expect the influence of Britain to be upon the world !*
' You haye been rightly informed that there are no public-houses or beersbopi
here. Only yery occasionally any ineonyenience is felt, and the benefit to the
people in the place is felt and acknowledged by alL The yillage is orderly and
quiet, and only once during my incumbency of six years haye I seen a drunken
parishioner. Indeed drunkenness is hardly known. The labourer is too tired of
an eyening to go two miles in quest of beer. .... This sobriety hss a great
effect upon the harmony and comforts of home. Eyery labourer is able to keep a
pig, and seyeral haye cows. They are able to keep their children at school longer
than usual. They belong, as a rule, both men and women, to some friendly
society. I know something of their priyate concerns. One day-labourer, a
butcher, has 9a,J9^£70, Another, a shepherd, has laid by oyer ^£100. Only last
week a labourer, with a family of fiye children, consulted me as to an inyestment
for his sayings. This humble prosperity is not confined to one or two instances,
but is fully eyenly spread oyer the whole place. In the interest of truth, I am
bound to aad, that the parish belongs to Lord , who is a resident here most
part of the year, and thai he takes an interest in the concerns of almost eyefy
parishioner. But after deducting the effect of this influeoce upon the welfare of
the place, I can fairly attribute yery much of the prosperity and morality to the
absence of public^houses. I may add, I haye neard frequently the men and
women express their thankfulness that the temptation to drinking has been taken
out of the way.'
The volume before us is evidently the result of vast labour,
and not a little expenditure of money, in obtaining, arranging,
and printing the evidence ; and the arduous task of obtaining
the committee in the first instance, then of preparing its
report, and of securing for it the approval and endorsement of
the Lower House of Convocation/ must have been, prodigious.
For this, the thanks of every lover of temperance, and indeed
of every friend of the human race, are largely due, under God,
to the Yen. Archdeacon Sandford, whose name is appended to
the very modest preface introducing the volume.
( 288 )
DR. LYMAN BEEOHER'S 'SIX SERMONS/
DR. BEECHER was certainly a remarkable man. His portrait
represents a most earnest and ardent character^ one of
the genuine seed of the Puritans^ with an entire preservation
of their creed^ character^ spirit^ prejadices^ powers, merits^
and faults. He was, like them, vehement to fury, zealous to
slaying, intense to narrowness, but full of £uth and burning
earnestness, and his hatred, like that of the best of* men,
might be called inverted love. As a preacher of extreme
Calvinism he was one of the most uncompromising, powerful,
and overwhelming. Yet his sincerity and simplicity of cha-
racter saved him, to a ^eat extent, {rom .tiie charge of
fanaticism, and those who neard him and did not believe his
doctrine, were yet awestruck by his holiness and penetrated
by his philanthropy, and while they were not converted to the
creed, they were taught to revere and to love the man. A
notable instance of this is found in the case of the late
Theodore Parker. That in some points erroneous, but in all
points earnest, and in many respects most noble and gifted
man, attended Dr. Beecher's ministry for a long time ; and
although the doctor^s sermons and arguments and thundering
denunciations, instead of producing conviction in his mind of
the Galvinistic creed, made him to recoil from it more and more,
partly perhaps on the principle that the inhabitants of the
tropics are less afraid of thunder, where it is common and
tremendous, than the inhabitants of temperate climes, where it
is moderate and unfrequent, yet he never ceased to love and
admire the preacher. He learned earnestness, if not theology,
from his lips, and he learned, too, charity, since he saw that
here one of the best of men held doctrines which made him
shudder and recoil at times with horror. We have not
Parkei^'s life at hand, but we may refer our readers to it as
containing one of the most remarkable testimonies of respect
from an honest and able rationalist to an honest and able
preacher of the Orthodox doctrines.
Dr. Beecher's Six Sermons on Intemperance filled, we
believe, the first book that gained him a name in Qreat
Britain. We remember reading them when a boy, and being
greatly struck with their exceeding energy of style, boldness
of imagery, pungency of illustration, and earnestness of tone.
Intemperance at that time, still more than now, the great
moral mischief of Amerijca, had exerted almost a fiEtsoinating
Dr. Lyman Beeeker^s ^ Six Bemums.' 289
'^ted fearfiil influence on Dr. Beecher's imagination. It seemed
to him a black shadow breathed up from ike pit and darken-
ing earth below and becloading heaven above ; it rested like
a nightmare npon the breast of his country; it sacrificed
'taianly enterprise; it crushed manly energy; it withered
inanly health ; it deadened religious enterprise ; it formed a
cloud between the Mercy-seat above and the Church of
' Christ below ; it seemed the sum of all the evils of humanity^
the masterstroke of demoniac skill and infernal ingenuity ; the
one great obstacle which prevented the earth from attaining
the climax of true happiness^ and Christianity the culmination
of its triumph. All this^ and more than this^ Dr. Beecher
enulnerated with vast force of conviction^ intensity of feel-
ings and power of language. One passage especially we
remember well^ in which he described the earth as the vast
whispering gallery repeating the woes and horrors of intem-
perance^ as peculiarly powerful and striking to young
imaginations.
*0h ! were the sky oyer onr heads one gnat whispering gallery, brinnng down
about us all the lamentation and wo which intemperance creates^ and the firm earth
one sonorous medium of sound, bringing up around us from beneath the wailings
of the damned whom the commerce in strong drink had sent thither, these
tremendous realities, assailing our sense, would inyigorate our conscience, and giye
decision to our purpose of reformation. But these evils are as real as if the stone
did cry out of the wall, and the beam answered it ; as real as if day and night
wailings were heard in erery part of the dwelling, and blood and skeletons were
Been upon every wall ; as real as if the ghostly forms of departed riotims flitted
about the ship as she passed over the billows, and showed themselres nightly about
stores and distilleries, and with unearthly voices screamed in our ears their loud
lament They aip as real as if the sky over our heads collected and brought down
about us all the notes of sorrow in the land, and the firm earth should open a
passage for the wailings of despair to eome up from beneath.'
There are^ and were then^ other evils besides mtemperance —
some of them perhaps even greater^ because more respectable
and insidious^ and warring still more against the soul. There
are selfishness^ trade trickery^ and falsehood^ and^ besides^
uncharitableness^ licentiousness^ ungodliness^ calunmy^ and
evil-speaking were then^ and are stilly prevalent^ and are
eating like cankers into the very heart and core of society.
But Dr. Beecher^ viewing intemperance as one great form of
iniquity^ and anxious for its abolition^ might well be excused
for neglecting to allude for the moment to those other shapes
of evU^ and concentrating' his whole energy of attack upon
this. Besides^ he felt^ as all reformers do^ that in order to geia
a point that point must be magnified. In order to destroy
an evil that evil must be regarded through -a powerful
telescope. In order to carry a < citadel that citadel moBtbe
insulated and made the principal aim of the ^^ ^
240 Dr. Lyman BeecheiJs 'Six SemumiJ
cannon. And on tUs hint lie spake^ and his word bo& in
America and here was with power.
Dr. Beecher's sermons were six in number^ and wera
devoted to the natnre^ occasions, signs^ evils^ and remedies of
intemperance. All of them were eminently practical in their
cast^ and yet at the same time glowed with eloqnence^ palpi-
tated with earnest feeling, and glittered with poetical imagery.
They were delivered in Lichfield in 1826^ and he might be
considered as almost the father of the movement in America ;
a movement which undoubtedly has been productive of an
immense amount of good. His sermon on the remedies ia
exceedingly earnest^ and has much that was and is seasonable
about it, although some may think that it does not lay
sufficient stress upon the gradual effects of culture^ good
manners, sanitary regulations, increased material comfort^ and
religious influences as striking at the roots of intemperance.
Dr. Beecher's brochure is by no means to be regarded as a
complete^ a final, a philosophical defence of its own cause. It
lies open to various and obvious objections. It overstates
some things, understates others ; but as a first trumpet blast,
calling attention to the subject^ and proclaiming the evils of a
great and growing abuse, it did its work^ and will ever
deserve its high meed of applause.
We notice some little blunders in these sterling sermons.
For instance, he says, p. 16, 'The giant writers of Scotland
are some of them men of threescore and ten, who still go
forth to the sports of their youthful days with undiminished
activity.' We smile at this^ remembering that in 1826 the
two principal writers in Scotland were Sir Walter Scott and
Professor Wilson — the one of them then 55, and the other 41
years of age, — and that Scott died when 61. Probably Beecher
was thinking of the imaginary age which Christopher North
always, in Blackwood, attributed to himself. But certainly
the Scottish authors as a rule, if they have lived long, have
not done so owing to their peculiar temperance ; nor do we
remember any instances of great longevity among them,
unless it be in the case of George Buchanan and Henry Mac-
kenzie— Buchanan being 79 and Mackenzie 86 when they
respectively died. But it will not do to look at these sermons
in a carping spirit. They are productions superior to petiy
criticism, powerful, fresh, dipped in the heart's blood of their
author, and animated by a spirit of the most glowing philan-
thropy.
We quote, in addition to the passage already given^ one or
two of the more sterling portions :—
Br, Lyman Beecher^s ^ Six Sermons/ 241
From the first Bermon we give the following passage : —
* The use of theee liquors, employed as an auxiliary to labour, is among the most
fatal, because the most common and least suspected, causes of intemperance. It is
justified as innocent, it is insisted on as necessary ; but no fact is more completely
established by experience, than that it is utterly useless, and ultimately injurious,
beside all the fearful evils of habitual intemperance to which it so often leads.
TnEE£ IS NO NUTRITION IN ALCHOLIC LIQUOR. AlL THAT IT DOBS IB, TO CC|KCBNTRATE
TOR STRRNOTH OF TUR ST8TRM TOR THR TUfR BRTOND ITS CAPACITY TOR RROULAR
RXRRTioN. It is borrowing strength for an occasion which will be needed for
futurity, without any proyision for payment, and with the certainty of ultimate
bankruptcy.
' The early settlers of New England endured more hardship, and performed
more labour, and carried through Ufe more health and vigour, than appertains to
the existing veneration of labouring men. And they did it without the use of
intoxicating drinks.
' Let two men of equal age and firmness of constitution, labour together through
the summer, the one with, and the other without the excitement of theee liquors,
and the latter will come out at the end with unimpaired Tigour, while the oUier
will be comparatiyely exhausted. Ships narigated, as some now are, without the
habitual use of ardent spirits, and manufacturing establishments carried on with-
out it, and extended agricultural operations, lul more on with better industry,
more peace, more healUi, and a better income to the employers and emploved.
The workmen are cheerful and rigorous, friendly and mdustrious, ana toeir
families are thrifty, weU-fed, well-dothed, and instructed ; and instead of distress,
and poverty, and disappointment, and contention, they are cheered with the full
flow of social aflfection, and often by the sustaining power of religion. But where
strone drink is receiyed as a daily auxiliary to labour, it is commonly taken at
statea times: the habit soon creates a racancy in the stomach, which indicates at
length the hour of the day with as much accuracy as a dock. It will be taken,
besides, frequency at other times, which will accelerate the destruction of nature's
healthful tone, create artificial debility, and the necessity of artificial excitement to
remoTe it; and when so much has been consumed as the economy of the employer
can allow, the growing demand will be supplied by the erenin^ and morning dram
from the wages of labour, until the appetite has become insatiable, and the habit
of intemperance nearly uniyersal ; until the neryous excitebility has obliterated the
social sensibilities, and turned the family into a scene of babbling and wo ; until
yoracious appetite has eaten up the children's bread, and abandoned them to
ignorance and crime; until conscience has become callous, and fidelity and
industry haye disappeared, except as the result of eye seryice; and wanton waste-
fulness, and contention, and reckless wretehedness, characterise the esteblishment.'
In the second occurs a short but striking passage : —
* It is here, then, beside this commencing rortex, that I would teke my stend, to
warn off the heedless nayigator from destruction. To all who do but heaye in
sight, and with voice that should rise aboye the winds and waves, I would cry,
'• Stand oflf! spread the sail, ply the oar, for death is here! " and could I com-
mand the elements, the blackness of darkness should rather oyer this gateway to
hell, and loud thunders should utter their yoices, knd lurid fires should blaze, and
the eroans of unearthly yoices should be heard, inspiring consternation and flight
in all who came near. For this is the parting point between those who forsake
danger, and hide themselyes. and the foolish who pass on, and are punished. He
who escapes this periodical thirst of times and seasons, will not be a drunkard, as
he who comes within the reach of this powerful attraction will be sure to perish.
It may not be cerUin that every one will become a sot ; but it is certain that every
one will enfeeble his body, generate disease, and shorten his days. It may not be
certain that every one will sacrifloe his reputetion, or squander his property, and
die in the almshouse ; but it is certain that a large proportion will come to poverty
and infamy of those who yield daily to the periodical appetite for strong drinks.
Here is the stopping place, and though beyond it men may itruggle, and retaid^
Vol. 12.-^0. 47. Q
242 Dr. Lyman Beecher^s ^ Six Sermons,^
and modify their progress, none, compftratiTelj, who eo by it, will return again
to purity of enjoyment, and the sweets of temperate liberty. The servant has
become the master, and with a rod of iron, and a whip of scorpions, he will
torment, erea before their time, the candidates for misery in a future state.'
Prom sermon third we cull the following paragraph :—
* To the action of a powerful mind, a vigorous muscular frame is, as a general
rule, indispensable. lake heavy ordnance, the mind in its efforts recoils on tha
body, and will soon shake down a puny frame. The mental action and physical
reaction must be equal, or, finding her energies unsustained, the mind itself
becomes discouraged, and falls into despondency and imbecility. The flow of
animal spirits, the fire and vigour of the imagination, the fulness and power of
feeling, me comprehension and grasp of thought, the fire of the eye, the tones of
the voice, and the electrical energy of utterance, all depend upon the healthful and
vigorous tone of the animal system, and by whatever means the body is unstrung;
the spirit languishes. CsBsar, when he had a fever once, and cried, ** Give me some
drink, Titinius,'' was not that god who afterwards overturned the ropublio, and
reigned without a rival; and Bonaparte, it has been said, lost the Russian
campaign by a fever. The greatest poets and orators who stand on the records of
immortality, flourished in the iron age, before the habits of effeminacy had
unharnessed the bodv and unstrung the mind. TboB is true of Homer, and
Demosthenes, and Milton ; and if Yirgil and Cicero are tc be classed with tliem,
it is not without a manifest abatement of vigour for beauty, produced by the
progress of voluptuousness in the age in which they lived.*
Sermon fifth closes strikingly thns : —
' The science of self-government is the science of perfect government; which we
have yet to learn and teach, or this nation and the world must be governed by foroe.
But we have all the means, and none of the impediments, which hinder tiie
experiment amid the dynasties and feudal despotisms of Europe. And what has
been done, justifies the expectation that all which yet remains to be done will be
accomplished. The abolition of the slave trade, an event now almost accomplished,
was once regarded as a ohimera of benevolent dreaming. But the band of Christian
heroes, who consecrated their lives to the work, may some of them survive to behold
it achieved. This greatest of evUs upon earth, this stigma of human nature, wide-
spread, deep-rooted, and intrenched by interest and State policy, is passing away
before the unbending requisitions of an enlightened public opinion.
No great melioration of the human condition was ever achieved without the
concurrent effort of numbers ; and no extended well-directed application of moral
influence was ever made in vain. Let the temperate part of the nation awake, and
reform, and concentrate their influence in a course of systematic action, and success
is not merely probable, but absolutely certain. And cannot this be accomplished ?
Cannot the public attention be aroused, and set in array against the traffic m strong
drinks, and against their use ? With just as much certainty can the public
sentiment be formed and put in motion, as the waves can be moved by the breath
of heaven, or the massy rock balanced on the precipice can be pushed from its
centre of motipn ; and when the public sentiment once begins to move, its march
will be as resistless as the same rock thundering down a precipice. Let no man,
then, look upon our condition as hopeless, or feel, or Uiink, or say that nothing
can be done. The language of Heaven to our happy nation is, ** Be it unto thee
even as thou wilt ; " and there is no despondency more fatal, or more wicked, than
that which refuses to hope, and to act, from the apprehension that nothing can
be done.'
From the many impressive exhortations in the last sermon
of the series we give the following to young men : —
' Could I call around me in one vast assembly the temperate young men of our
land, I would say, Hopes of the nation, blessed be ye of Uie Lord now in the dew
Daniel Defoe. 248
of your youth. But look well to your footsteps, for ripen and scorpions and adders
surround your way : look at the ^Deration who have just preceded you ; the morning
of their life was cloudless, and it dawned as brightly as your own ; but behold them
bitten, swollen, and enfeebled, inflamed, debaucned, idle, poor, irreligious, and
vicious, with haltine step dragp;ing onward to meet an earlygraTe. Their bright
prospects are clouded, and their sun is set, never to rise. No house of their own
receives them, while from poorer to poorer tenements they descend, and to harder
and harder fare, as improvidence aries up their resources. And now, who are
those tiiat wait on their footsteps with muffled faces and sable garments ? That is
a father and that is a mother whose gray hairs are coming with sorrow to the
grave ; that is a sister weeping over e^ which she cannot arrest ; and there is
the broken-hearted wife, and uiere are the children, hapless innocents, for whom
their father has provided the inheritance only of dishonour and nakedness and wo.
And is this, beloved young men, the history of your course? In this scene of
desolation, do you beholn the- image of vour future selves ? Is this the poverty and
disease which as an armed man shall take hold on you ? And are your fathers, and
mothers, and sisters, and wives, and children, to succeed to those who now move
on in this mournful procession, weeping as the^ go ? Yes, bright as your morning
now opens, and hiffh as your hopes beat, this is your noon and your night, unless
you shun those habits of intemperance which have thus early made theirs a day of
clouds and of thick darkness. If you frequent places of evening resort for social
drinking, if vou set out with drinking daily a bttle, temperately, prudently, it is
yourselves which as in a glass you belu>ld.'
Even those wlio may not go all Dr. Beeclier's lengths in
this important question cannot fail^ we think^ to do justice to
the courage which led him 43 years ago to utter his mind so
freely on the subject, — to the magnanimity of soul which
disdained reproach and despised contempt, — ^to the honesty
which marked all his statements, and the enthusiasm which
inspirited all his language ; and they will not be slow to class
him with such benefactors of his race as Howard and Clark-
son, Grarrison and Livingstone — men whose greatness lay in
their grappling almost single-handed with gigantic evils, or
in seeking, with Uttle support but that of God himself, after
Qod-like objects, in which, even if they fail, their failure is
more valuable, suggestive, and hopeful than any amount of
secular success.
DANIEL DEFOE.
1. Daniel Defoe, his Life and recently -discovered Writings,
Extending from 1716^1 729. By William Lee. London :
J. C. Hotten. 1869.
2. Daniel Defoe, By John Forster. London: Longman.
1855.
«
ME. JOHN FOESTER in his clever Essay on Daniel Defoe
in Messrs. Longman's ' Travellers' Library* says, ' His
Life, to be fairly presented, should be written aa th.^ ** "SiSa
244 Daniel Defoe.
and Strange Surprising Adventures of Daniel Defoe, who
lived above seventy years all alone in the Island of Gmsat
Britain/^ It might then be expected to compare in vicissitude
and interest with his immortal romance. As written hitherto,
it has only shared the fate of his manly but perishable
polemics/ Mr. Forster scarcely exaggerates. K the hero o€
the romance had to spend a large portion of his life in soli-^
tude as the punishment for his love of adventure, the author
of the romance had to spend a portion of his in confine-
ment because of his love of progress. Bobinson Crusoe
wished to escape from the hum- drum life which surrounded
him. Daniel Defoe wished to escape from the miserable
meannesses of social and political corruption which abounded
in his day. There is scarcely any other Englishman except
Baleigh who lived so completely before his time as Defoe.
Save for that fact there was scarcely anything in common
between these two great sons of England. In birth, person, and
career they were widely dissimilar. But the principle which
guided the lives of both was the same. Baleigh was descended
&om one of the most ancient families in the country ; Defoe
was the son of a butcher. Baleigh was brought up at Court
and was as handsome as Apollo ; Defoe was &st a hosier and
then a tile maker, and had ' a hooked nose, sharp chin, grej
eyes, and a large mole near his mouth.' Baleigh ciroom*
navigated the world, and was for a considerable portion of
his life sailing the seas and exploring foreign lands. Defoe
migrated from London to Tilbury, and from Tilbury to Bury,
and from Bury to Stoke Newington, rarely setting foot out of
Britain. Baleigh wrote mellifluous verse; Defoe tersest
prose. But both Baleigh and Defoe had that grand gifl of
foresight which has so often brought trouble to him endowed
with it. Raleigh was the founder of our colonial empire and
the advocate of free trade. Defoe denounced protection,
imprisonment for debt, and religious disabilities, and advo-
cated the construction of roads and the establishment of
savings banks. Both were in advance of their age and
suflFered accordingly; Raleigh in the Tower and on the block;
Defoe in Newgate and in the pillory. Honour eMk/d to the
courtly knight and to the butcher^s son.
In the essay above-mentioned, Mr. Forster regrets that the
only two attempts to publish a complete edition of Defoe's
works had failed. An attempt of another kind has been
made within the present year, but it is doubtful if Mr.
Forster will be gratified by it. Mr. William Lee, whose
admiration for Defoe is at least as intense as Mr. Forster's,
has in the course of long and laborious investigations
Daniel Defoe. 245
alighted upon a number of Defoe's works hitherto undis-
covered. Mr. Porster says that Defoe's ^ last political essay
was written in 1715, and while the proof sheets lay uncor-
rected before him, he was stricken with apoplexy/ Mr. Lee
has discovered that for sixteen years after this Defoe was
writing in political journals. Still more strange, he, who all
his life had been the most ardent of Liberals, wrote as a Tory.
But he had not changed his political creed. He had not
really turned his back upon himself. He had undertaken the
conduct of two or three Tory journals with the connivance of
the Whig ministers in order that he might take the sting out
of the politics — ^in order that he might serve up Toryism and
water. Undoubtedly nothing can justify this conspiracy. At
the same time there are excuses to be urged in mitiga-
tion. Defoe owed the Tories nothing, least of all love. They
had treated him barbarously, and if he diluted their ideas
and brought their principles into discredit by a purposely
feeble advocacy, they had treated him far worse ; they had
ruined him in fortune and nearly ruined him in health. More-
over, it must be remembered, that at that time the same rule
held good with regard to political which now holds good with
regard to military warfare. ^ All is fair in war,' was the
dogma of the politicians of that day, as it is of the soldiers of
this. Then, too, Defoe honestly believed Tory politics to be
so bad that if he could prevent them from being advocated in
their full development, he would do a service to the State.
These are considerations which should influence if not the
verdict, at least the sentence, which posterity passes upon
Defoe. ' Guilty ' we must declare him to be, but as it is ^ with
extenuating circumstances' we will not condemn him too
severely. As for Mr. Lee, our sentiments towards him must
be of a mingled character. He has discovered a most inte-
resting incident in Defoe's life ; but he has shaken one of the
nation's idols upon its pedestal.
Daniel Defoe was bom in the parish of St. Giles, Cripple-
gate, in the year 1661. A general election had just taken
place, and the people had gone mad with loyal enthusiasm.
It was a time of illuminations and festivities, of almost
universal rejoicing. Almost, but not quite. Neither Repub-
licanism nor Puritanism had died out entirely. It was too soon
for that, and events were at hand which gave a new impulse
to both, so that if they could not flourish on English soil they
would transplant themselves to another. * The House of
Commons elected in the year of Defoe's birth was so intensely
royalist and episcopalian that it was with the greatest diffi-
culty Charles II. escaped from the perjury of rescindixi^t\\!^ ks^
246 Darnel Defoe.
of Indemnity. It was a bad time for a sturdy Nonconformist
to be bom in ; nevertheless Daniel Defoe was &ted to date-
Ms birth from that epoch. His father was a respectable-
butcher, James Foe by name, and a Dissenter. He sent hia
son to an academy at Newington Green, kept by Mr. Charles
Morton, an Oxonian, whom Harvard College, lately so
prominent in English newspapers, afterwards chose for Vice-
President when he was driven by the bigotry of the Court and
the persecution of Parliament to find a home beyond the
Atlantic. At Newington school young Foe learnt five
languages and his mother tongue. Morton was in advance*
of his age. He saw what we, living 200 years later, are only
beginning to see, that Greek Iambics and Ciceronian Latin
are but a very small compensation for incapacity to write*
English. The world owes a debt of gratitude to Charles
Morton for having thus prepared his .pupil to enrich oar
language with some of the most vigorous writing that it
contcdns. It had been intended that Defoe should enter the
dissenting ministry, but as he grew to years of discretion he
manifested a repugnance to that calling. In the first place^
he saw that dissenting ministers were for the most part
illiterate and were miserably paid. In the next place, he^
though a Dissenter, was not convinced that the dissent-
ing form of Church Government was the best. For these
reasons he turned his thoughts in other directions. It was
remarkable that he should do so. At that time literature
was scarcely a recognised profession, and Defoe, who
early felt drawn towards authorship, must have seen
that the pulpit gave him greater opportunity for it than
the shop. Nevertheless he entered into trade, and learnt
business in the house of a hose £Ekctor or merchant in the city.
His leisure was devoted to politics. He had the greatest
horror of Popery, because he considered it synonymous with
tyranny. Thus he took part in the ' Popish plot ' agitation.
He believed in the ' plot / but even he could not believe all
the lies told by Titus Oates. The idea of a general massacre
he stigmatised as absurd. ^ A general massacre truly ! when
the Papists all over the kingdom are not five to a hundred, in
some counties not one, and within the city hardly one to a
thousand.^ Among the units, though unavowed, was Charles
n., and when he had passed to his account, a king came after
him who avowed his faith honestly and openly, and endeavoured,
to make it the national faith. Indulgences were ofiered to
Dissenters in order that they might be conceded also to Roman
Catholics. Some of the first were for accepting the ofier..
Not so Defoe. ^ Was ever anything more absurd,' he wrote,.
Daniel Defoe. 247
' than the conduct of King James and his party in wheedling
the Dissenters, giving them liberty of conscience by his own
arbitrary dispensing authority, and his expecting that they
should be content with their religion at the price of the
constitution V At all events the young hosier was not con-
tent; and so, when Monmouth raised the standard* of
Protestantism in rebellion against his uncle, Defoe joined it.
There is no need to tell how badly the enterprise fared. It
was on June 11th, 1685, that Monmouth lajided at Lyme^
hoisted the blue flag, and prayed for divine assistance ; and >
by July 15th a battle had been fought and lost, and the
rebel leader was a headless corpse on Tower Hill. And
yet, if Defoe is to be believed, Monmouth was very nearly
winning. He says that 'had not the duke^s army been
deceived by the darkness of the night, and led to a large
ditch which they could not pass over, they had certainly
surprised and overthrown the King's army, and cut them in
pieces before it was known who had hurt them.' This was
little consolation to Monmouth's followers, when they were
brought up before Jeffreys and murdered by Kirke. Among the-
multitude of men and women who suflTered during the Bloody^
Assizes were three of Defoe's fellow-students at Mr. Morton^s.^
Defoe himself escaped. Mr. Lee says that in the same year he
entered upon the hosiery business. Mr. Forster says he
visited Spain, Germany, and Prance. It is not clear which
of the two biographers is correct ; but one thing appears
certain,-— it was about this time that ' Daniel Foe ' changed
his name. Mr. Porster suggests that the prefix ' De ' was a
piece of innocent vanity picked up in his travels ; or it may
have had a more serious purpose. Mr. Lee thinks that it
resulted neither from vanity nor from design, but arose simply
from the fact that Daniel used to sign his name ' D. Foe,' in
order to distinguish himself from his father, and that he became
so well known under this title that the affix was incorporated
with the patronymic.
When Defoe returned from the continent (if indeed he went
there at this time), he found politics hopelessly disorganised.
The King was of his own will and pleasure giving the
Dissenters a liberty which the laws denied them. It is not
surprising if many of them accepted the present, and saw
not the guile which prompted it. There were deputations of
Nonconformists going up to thank James for his arbitrary act.
Penn was among the grateful ones. So was not Defoe. Ho
saw through the stratagem, warned his co-religionists of it,
and advised them to reject so thoroughly Greek a gift. He
published his advice in what Mr. Lee considers to be D^^^c^^^'^
248 Dcmiel Defoe.
first printed work. In proof of the danger incurred by all
concerned in its publication^ it is without date^ name of
printer, or place of publication. The first page is headed^
^A Letter containing some Beflections on His Majesty's
Declaration for Liberty of Conscience. Dated the 4th April,
1687.' It was as bold as it was clear-sighted. Though the
Dissenters were by the King's act secured liberty of con-
science, and though Defoe, himself a Dissenter, was
peculiarly capable of estimating the boon, he would not have
it at the cost of the Constitution. He writes, ' I will take
the boldness to add one thing, that the King's suspending of
laws strikes at the root of this whole Grovernment, and 8ub«
verts it quite.' Again, ^ When a coronation oath is so little
remembered, other promises must have a proportioned degree
of credit given to them.' The risk he ran in publishing this
letter was not compeu sated by the approbation of his friends.
They condemned the letter, and disclaimed the author. The
^ grave, good, weak men ' of his party, as he called them,
lectured him upon his youth and inexperience. The first
result of these reproaches was that Defoe applied himself
more vigorously to trade. On January 26th, 1688, he was
-admitted a liveryman of the city of London. What a year
that was ! The trial of the seven bishops, the landing of
William, and the flight of James, all took place in it. Defoe
was one of the warmest in his welcome of 'the Deliverer.'
No sooner did the news arrive of the successful landing in
Torbay, and the advance of the Dutch, than Defoe, armed and
on horseback, left the city, and at Henley-on-Thames joined
the second line of the army of the Prince of Orange. No
doubt he was one of those who witnessed the entry of the
King into London on December 18th. He himself tells us
that he was present during the debates of the Convention, and
'heard with inexpressible joy' the message from the
Commons delivered at the bar of the Lords by Mr. Hampden,
of Buckinghamshire, ' that it is inconsistent with the constitu-
tion of this Protestant kingdom to be governed by a Popish
prince.' Defoe was one of the royal regiment of volunteer
horse who accompanied William and Mary to the State
banquet given to them by the Lord Mayor on October 29th,
1689. Two years later he published his first poem, a political
satire directed against the Jacobite clergy. In 1692 he fell
into commercial difficulties. They were the result partly of
unavoidable misfortune, partly of his want of business tact.
Chalmers says, ^ he spent those hours with a small society for
the cultivation of public learning, which he ought to have
employed in the calculation of the counting-house, and being
Dcmiel Defoe. 249
obliged to abscond from his creditors in 1692, lie naturally
attributed those misfortunes to the war, which were probably
owing to his own misconduct/ Mr. Lee admits that Defoe
failed through inattention to business and through over-
trading. Defoe seems to be painting his own portrait in his
book, ' The Compleat Tradesman : ' —
'A Wit turned Tradesman! What an incongruous part of Nature is there
brought together, consisting of direct contraries ! No apron strings will hold him ;
'tis in vain to lock him in bshind the Compter, he's gone in a Moment : instead of
Journal and Ledger, he runs away to his Virgil and Horace, his Journal Entries
are all Pindaricks, and his Ledger all Heroicks : he is truly dramatic from one end
to the other, through the whole Scene of his Trade ; and as the first part is all
Comedy, so the two last Acts are all made up with Tragedy ; a Statute of Bankrupt
is his Exeunt Omnes, and he generally speaks the Epilogue in the Fleet Prison or
the Mint'
If Defoe was negligent^ his creditors did not suffer in the
end. He compounded with them ; yet he subsequently paid
them not only the dividend which they had agreed to accept^
but the whole of their debt. Clearly, therefore, the ' abscond-
ing' whereof we have spoken was not prompted by any
intention to defraud his creditors, but was due only to his
desire to escape the horrors of the debtor's prison. Once
immured in gaol, there would be no hope of his retrieving his
position, or of paying what he owed. He was invited by some
merchants to settle in Cadiz, where they assured him of many
commissions. But he declined to leave England, and took up
his residence for a time in Castle-street, Bristol. One of
Defoe's biographers, Mr. Walter Wilson, mentions it as an
honourable tradition in his family, that at that time one of his
Bristol ancestors had often seen and spoken with ' the great
Defoe.' His friends called him the ' Sunday gentleman,'
because, through fear of the bailiffs, he did not dare to appear
in public upon any other day, while on that day he was
sure to be seen with a fine flowing wig, lace ruffles, and
a sword by his side, passing through the Bristol streets.
It was during this period of seclusion that he wrote his
'Enquiry into the Occasional Conformity of Dissenters in
cases of Preferment,' and his ' Essay on Projects.' In the
first he contended that if Dissenters considered it wrong to
go to church, the mere fact of their being appointed mayor
would not render church-going right. The logic was irre-
sistible. Once more Dissenters were shown to have sacrificed
their principles to expediency. Once more Defoe was put
under the ban by his co-religionists. Even the gentle Howe
wrote an angry reply. It drew forth from Defoe a calm and
cogent answer. The ' Essay on Projects ' was one of the most
masterly of all his productions, and Benjamin Franklin after-
260 Damdsl Defoe.
wards admitted tho great service tliat it had rendered to him.
It was the first of Defoe^s works to attain the dignity of a
volume^ and it contained 350 pages. He proposed to found a
royal or national bank with affiliated establishments^ to
improve the pubUc highways^ to establish offices for insurance
against shipwreck and fire (singularly enough^ he did not
approve of life insurance), to start fnendly societies^ and
societies for the relief of destitute widows and seamen ; he
suggested the opening of a pension office in every county for
the reception of deposits from the poor (an anticipation of
savings* banks, combined with the still more recent provision
for conversion into annuities) ; he urged the erection of an
institution for the care and maintenance of idiots, whom he
called ^ a particular rent-charge on the great family of man-
kind; * he advised the appointment of a commission of inqniry
into bankruptcy for the relief of unfortunate but honest
traders; he recommended an extensive reform of school*
teaching, with especial reference to the teaching of the
English language ; he proposed the founding of an academy
for military studies (which he considered the most noble of
all his inventions), the founding also of an academy for
military exercises, and of an academy for women. His last
^ project * was one for the registration of all the seamen of the
United Kingdom. The pending war with France respecting
the Spanish succession was the next subject on which Defoe
wrote. But soon there came a topic which stirred him to the
innermost depths of his heart. A Mr. Tutchin published on
August Ist, 1700, a pamphlet called ' The Foreigners.' It
was in bad verse, and was a fierce attack upon the Dutch in
general, and King William in particular. This ^vile abhorred
pamphlet,' says Defoe, ' filled me with a kind of rage against
the book, and gave birth to a trifle which I never could hope
would have met with so general an acceptance as it did/
This 'trifle' was 'The True-bom Englishman, — ^a Satyr.'
It had a marvellous success. Published without the name of
either author or bookseller, it nevertheless took possession
of all readers, from the King on his throne to the humble
buyers of penny piracies hawked in the streets. ' It is very
probable,' says Mr. Lee, ' that from the invention of printing
to the end of 1701, an equal number of copies had never been
sold of any book within the space of one year.' In the preface
to the second volume of his collected writings Defoe com-
plained of the pecuniary loss he had sustained by these pira-
cies. At that time there had been nine authorised editions
and twelve unauthorised. The first were published at a
shiUing, the second at prices varying from sixpence to a
Daniel Defoe. 251
penny, and of these last there had been eighty others sold in
the streets. In this way Defoe considered that he had been
robbed of at least £1,000. However, he was paid in another way»
The ^Satyr^ brought him under the notice of WiUiam and Mary.
He advised the Queen how to lay out the gardens at Hampton
Court. He devised with the King means for carrying on the
war with Prance. That war was inevitable now. It was na
mere feud of rival races. Louis had offered both a menace
and an insult to the British nation. James II. had died, and
Louis recognised Jameses son as King of England, in defiance
of his promise not to afford assistance to any person against
King William. The English people were nothing loth for
war. Defoe indeed thought them too ready, inasmuch as h&
did not consider the bare recognition of the Pretender was a
violation of the Treaty of Byswick. A general election took
place in 1701. Defoe gave the Kong most valuable help.
Several able pamphlets came from his pen at this time. The
Duke of Gloucester had died during the recess, and William
had arranged with the Electress Sophia for the future acces-
sion of the House of Hanover, and on the opening of the new
Parliament urged the two Houses to pass the act which would
be introduced. Defoe urged it elsewhere, and the measure
became law. Nevertheless, the new House of Commons was
very bitter against the King. As Mr. Forster has remarked,
' It will not be too much to say, that at this moment the most
unpopular man in England was the man who had saved
England.^ Articles of impeachment were prepared against
the ministers who were the Eang^s chief friends. At length,
by their quarrels and resulting procrastination, the Commons
themselves became so unpopular that a crisis ensued. A
large number of the leading men of Kent presented a petition
by five of their number, calling upon the House of Commons
to give the King such supplies as would enable him to provide
for the interests of the kingdom and assist his allies before it
was too late. An angry debate followed, and the petitioners
were ordered into custody, and remained there from the
beginning of May to Midsummer Day, 1701, when Parliament
was prorogued. Nothing daunted by their fate, Defoe on the
very day after their committal went down to the House^
guarded by sixteen gentlemen of quality, who were prepared
to carry him off by n)rce if it should be necessary to do so^
and presented to the Speaker his celebrated 'Legion's Memo-
rial.^ Harley (afterwards Defoe's friend) was the Speakeo^ upd^
as he passed into the House of Commons^ a man '
a cloak,' says Mr. Forster, though Mr. Lee impliti
acted boldly and without disguise^ placed the
252 Daniel Defoe,
Jhands. It is said that Harley recognised Defoe^ bnt kept his
own counsel. The memorial was written in the tersest
English^ and it assumed, perhaps for the first time in history,
that the Commons were the servants of the people, and bound
to obey them. It concluded as follows : —
' ThuB, gentlemen, yoa have jour duty laid before jou, which 'tis hoped joa
will think of; but if jou continue to neglect it, yoa may be expected to be treated
according to the resentment of an injured Nation ; for Engliahmen are no mote
to be alayes to Parliaments than to a King.
' Our Name is Legion, and we are Many.'
The memorial was accompanied by a letter commanding the
Speaker to read the first-mentioned document to the House.
It produced a remarkable effect. Nothing more was said
about prosecuting the five ; the supplies were voted, and the
prisoners, as soon as they were released, were feasted at
Mercers' Hall, where next to them sat the author of the
' Legion Letter.'
In the summer of this year, William visited the continent
to arrange an alliance with Holland and Germany against
France. He was taken seriously ill at the Hague. He there
learnt that he had disease of the lungs, and could noi hope to
recover. Shortly after his return to Hampton Court, he felt
himself so much worse that he told the Earl of Portland that
he did not expect to see another summer, but charged him to
tell nobody. Until the close of his life he occupied himself
with public affairs. Defoe drew up a scheme of operations
against the Spanish WiBst Indies. He also endeavoured to
persuade the King to effect a union of government between
England and Scotland. William admitted the importance of
the measure, said that it would soon come, but added, ' not
yet, there is other more pressing work to be done.' The King
died March 8th, 1 702, and was mourned by no one more than,
perhaps by no one so much as, Daniel Defoe.
Defoe had good reason to mourn. The crown passed to
Anne, and the Jacobites rejoiced that the royal family were
come again to the throne of their ancestors. William's Whig
ministers were dismissed, — the Tories were called in. Defoe
suffered political eclipse with his friends. He was indignant
at the unjust reflections which were made upon his late
sovereign, and published a •» rhymed satire, ^The Mock
Mourners,' which passed through six editions in nine months.
Religious intolerance was now paore rampant than ever. It
was shared unfortunately by the people, excited by Sache-
verell, who had declared in the pulpit at Oxford that he could
not be a true son of the Church who did not against the
Dissenters hang out ^ the bloody flag and banner of defiance.'
Daniel Defoe. 253
This sermon was sold in the London streets for twopence,
and straightway the readers thereof proceeded to insult
prominent Dissenters in the streets^ and to pull down dis-
senting chapels. At that time^ and for some time subse-
quently, the people and the House of Commons were madly
intolerant^ and it was the House of Lords which opposed them
and used the utmost efforts to prevent the passage of penal
laws. Defoe was aroused by the savage declamation of
Sacheverell and of men like-minded. He wrote a pamphlet
called ^ The Shortest Way with the Dissenters,* in which ho
proved, logically enough if the premisses were granted, that
' the shortest way ' was to ' cut the throat of the whole party.'
The pamphlet was hailed with rapture by the more extravagant
zealots. Everywhere the argument, urged in irony, was
considered to be the genuine wish of the writer. A Cambridge
Fellow wrote to thank his bookseller for having sent 'so
excellent a treatise, it being, next to the Holy Bible and the
sacred comments, the most valuable he had ever seen.'
Apparently it was not until the name of the author became
known that the satire was found out and the sarcasm was
recognised. The rage of those who had been duped knew no
bounds. The Government offered a reward of £50 for Defoe's
apprehension. At first he concealed himself, but when the
printer and the bookseller were taken into custody, Defoe
voluntarily surrendered himself in order that ' others should
not,* as he said, ' be ruined by his mistake/ The pamphlet
was ordered to be burnt by the common hangman, and its
author was condemned to the pillory and to indefinite impri-
sonment in Newgate. It was on the 29th, 80th, and 31st
July, 1703, that he appeared in the place of shame. The
people gathered around, but did not, as was their wont on
such occasions, pelt the prisoner with mud and harder mis-
siles. On the contrary, they decked the pillory with garlauds,
drank his health while he stood, and hurrahed when he was
taken down. Defoe had composed ' A Hymn to the Pillory,*
and it was sung in his honour by those who witnessed that
which was intended to be his disgrace. ' Tell them,* he
wrote and they sang —
' Tell them the men that placed him here
Are scandaU to the- times,
Are at a loss to find, his guilt,
And can't commit his crimes/
Mr. Eyre Crowe has commemorated this memorable scene in
one of his most vigorous pictures.
Between the time of Defoe*s committal to Newgate and
his exposure on the pillory he wrote a pamphlet which shewed
254 Daniel Defoe.
how little malice he bore to the Church which was persecnting
him. It was entitled ^ The Shortest Way to Peace and Union,
by the Author of " The Shortest Way with the Dissenters/* '
Its object was to convince Dissenters that there ought to be
an established religion in connection with the State^ and that
the Church of England is not only the most fit, but the most
capable institution for maintaining the Protestant supremacy.
It exhorted Dissenters to avoid all conflict with the Churchy
and to rest content with the privileges they enjoyed; and it
advised High Churchmen to cease from all attempts to deprive
their dissenting brethren of toleration. He was to have plenty
of leisure for writing now. He returned from the pillory to
Newgate. He was obliged to give up his tilery at Tilbury,
which had been a source of wealth to him, and thereby he
lost £3,500, a large sum at that time, and Defoe was rendered
by his imprisonment quite incapable of recovering it. Life
in Newgate was not, however, to be a blank either to him or
to his readers. He sent out pamphlet after pamphlet — sixteen
in all — some of them in support of the Lords who, mirdbUe
dictu, were endeavouring to restrain the bigotry of the Com-
mons, and who refused to pass the bill to prevent occasional
conformity on the part of Dissenters, even though it was
tacked on to a money bill. But the great achievement of his
imprisonment was the starting and the editing of the Review.
The first number appeared February 19th, 1704. At the
commencement it was a weekly paper, but it was soon brought
out twice and then thrice a week, and for a short period there
were no fewer than five issues. The publication continued
for over nine years, the last number appearing on June Uth,
1713. Its primary object was to treat of news, politics, and
trade, both domestic and foreign; but in order to secure a
wider circulation, Defoe gave also what he termed a ' Scandal
Club,* whose purpose was to exalt virtue, to correct vice and
folly, to discuss casuistical questions from real or fictitious
correspondents in divinity, morals, language, science, poetry,
love, <s;c.
'When it is remembered (sajrs Mr. Lee) that no other pen than that of Defoe
uras ever emplojed upon a work appearing at such frequent interrals, extending over
more than a year, and embracing, in more than 5,000 printed pages, essays on tumost
erery branch of human knowledge, the achievement must be pronounced a great one,
even had he written nothing else. If we add that, between the date of the first
and last numbers of the RevUw, he wrote and published no less than 80 other
distinct works, containing 4,727 pages, and perhaps more, not now known, the
fertility of his genius must appear as astounding as the greatness of his oapacitj
for labour.'
So far as pecuniary profit from the Review was concerned,
there was little for the author. He had no protection against
Daniel Defoe, 255
continued piracy, and while his publisher could account for
only hundreds the paper was selUng by thousands. In one of
the latest numbers Defoe wrote, ' I have espoused an honest
interest, and have steadily adhered to it all my days. I never
forsook it when it was oppressed ; never made a ffain by it when
it was advanced, and I thank God it is not in the power of all
the courts and parties in Christendom to bid a price high
enough to buy me off from it, or make me desert it.' If it
seems difficult to have written a newspaper in prison, that was
a comparatively easy task comparea with writing it when
travelling about the country on affeirs of State. Defoe had
experience of both difficulties. Nottingham and Rochester
had resigned ; Harley, who had kept his counsel respecting
Defoe on a memorable occasion, had taken office. One of
Harley's first thoughts was for Defoe. He sent two Lords to
Newgate with the message, ^ Pray ask that gentleman what I
can do for him V Defoe took out pen and ink, and wrote the
story of the blind man in the Gospel, to whom our Lord said,
^ What wilt thou that I should do unto thee ? ' ' Who (adds
Defoe) as if he had made it strange that such a question could
be asked, or as if he had said. Lord, dost thou see that I am
blind, and yet ask me what thou shalt do for me? My
answer is plain in my misery. Lord, that I may receive my
sight I ' Harley understood the answer, and he did more than
comply with Defoe's request. He represented the prisoner's
hard case to the Queen. She was indignant, and after four
months of delay not only was Defoe released, but a royal gift
was sent him for the benefit of his wife and children, and for
the payment of the fine that had been imposed upon him.
He left Newgate after a year and a half s imprisonment therein.
He came out with impaired health and shattered fortune, and
he retired for a time to Bury St. Edmunds. Even there he
worked hard, and helped to support the Lords in their oppo-
sition to the arbitrary and unconstitutional proceedings of the
Commons. He also opposed a bill which had been introduced
by a member of the Lower House, Sir Humphrey Mackworth,
to establish in every parish a parochial manufactoiy for giving
employment to the poor. Defoe shewed how thoroughly
opposed the project was to sound political economy, and used
cogent arguments which might have been studied with advan-
tage a century and a half later by the French republicans who
in 1848 advocated the founding of national workshops. His
pamphlet proved that giving alms was no charity, and tliat
the employment of the poor by the State would be a tfri<
to the nation. The Commons passed the bill^ bat tiae.
rejected it. A little later the conflict between tlie two
256 Daniel Defoe.
became so fierce that Parliament was dissolved. Defoe took
advantage of the general election which followed to urge
moderation and harmony on all parties; the High Church
Tories, the Pretender^s or Hereditary-right Party, the late
Ministry, the Church of England, and the Dissenters. To
the last of these he reiterated the advice which he had given
on a former occasion, that they should support the Established
Church as being the best barrier against Popery. He seems
to have been in great pecuniary difficulties at the time, and
to have been compelled to leave London incognito. He was
assisted in his distress by Harley, who employed him as an
electioneering agent to visit the numberless small boroughs
in Devonshire and Cornwall on behalf of the ministry. All
that time he continued the Review, and some of the numbers
were written during his long journeys on horseback. A little
later he was employed by Godolphin, who had formed a high
opinion of his abilities, to promote the legislative imion be-
tween England and Scotland. For this purpose he travelled
in Scotland, and made many influential &iends. Mr. Forster
thinks that previously to this he was employed by Lord
Halifax on the continent in a secret service of some danger.
Mr. Lee doubts this, and contends that when Defoe, in the
letters written at this time, speaks of being 'abroad,' he
meant only that he was at large — ^at liberty. Whether this
supposition be true or not, Defoe speaks of the employment
as having involved him in considerable peril. He wrote after-
wards : ' I ran as much danger of my life as a grenadier upon
the counterscarp/ The mission, wherever and whatever it
was, had a successful termination, and Defoe was rewarded
with a Government sinecure. It was sorely needed, for his
political antagonists were merciless. They pursued him with
writs and warrants, false warrants some of them, sham actions
many of them. At last he surrendered himself to the Com-
missioners of Bankruptcy appointed under a recent act of
Parliament. He obtained his discharge, and thus he was one
of the first to reap the benefit of the reform which he had
urged and done so much to promote.
Early in 1708, Defoe, who had been absent from his fiunily
for sixteen months, returned to England from Scotland. At
that time court intrigues had led to the dismissal of Harley.
Defoe was prepared to share the ill-fortunes of his patron,
but the minister handsomely released him from all obligations,
and warmly recommended him to Godolphin. The latter
statesman knew sufficient of Defoe to understand his worth,
gave him the opportunity of kissing the Queen^s hand, and at
once despatched him to Scotland in order to support the royal
Daniel Defoe. 257
cause against tlie intrigaes of the Bretender. Defoe about
this time published a History of the Union, in which he highly
eulogised the Scotch. He also saw passed a measure which he
had most earnestly promoted, and for the want of which he had
most severely suffered — ^the Copyri^t Act. Then came the
famous Sacheverell trial. The 'iBloody Flag' doctor had
preached in St. Paul's Cathedral a sermon entitled 'Perils
among False Brethren,' which he afterwards published and
dedicated to the Lord Mayor and the Aldermen. It was
worthy of the Oxford sermon. It was so full of incendiarism
that ministers determined to prosecute the preacher. This
was a fatal error. Defoe saw it, and urged, ' Let us haye the
crime punished, not the man; the bar of the House of
Commons is the worst pillory in the nation.' Harley saw it,
and rejoiced, declaring ^The game is up.' Sacheverell beoamo
the popular martyr. The women worshipped him, the mob
cheered him, and diversified their acclamations with demolish-
ing dissenting chapels. Godolphin had to resign, and ELarley
took his place. He tried at first to effect a coalition with
Walpole and the Whigs. As they would not be colleagues he
determined to treat them as foes, and to put them down. He
took St. John into office : he employed Swift the Tory, and
Congreve the Whig. How about Defoe ? He waited first
upon Godolphin, who gave him full leave to serve Harley, as
Harley had given him leave to serve Godolphin. He waited
next upon Harley, and this is his own account of the inter-
view : —
* By this I was proTidentiall j oast back upon my Original Benefaoftor, who
aocordlDg to his wonted goodness was pleased to ky my case before her Migesty,
and thereby I presenred my interest in ner Majesty's fayoor, but without any engage-
ment of serrioe. As for consideration, pension, gratification, or reward, I deolan
to all the worla I have had none; except only that old appointment which her
Majesty was pleased to make me in the days of the ministry of Lord Godolphin, of
which I have spoken already, and which was for services done in a foreign country
some years before. Neither have I been employed, or directed or ordered by my
Lord Treasurer aforesaid to do, or not to do« anything in the affairs of tne unhappy
differences which have so long perplexed us, and for which I hare sufferea so
many, and such unjust reproaches.'
Defoe felt convinced that Harley was secretly a Whig, and
that he, as well as any other minister, would be compelled to
govern upon Whig principles. He said : —
* The Revolution cannot be overthrown in Britain. It is not in the power of
ministry or party, Prince or Parliament, to do it. If the attempt is made,lal thAm
look to it that venture upon the attempts The people of Sngland have tasted
liberty, and I cannot thinx they will bear the exchange.' He declares that he will
not go along with the ministry unless they go along with him ; and adds: *The
constitution is of such a nature that whoever may be in it; if th«j on futhftil to
Vol. 12.-^0. 47. B
258 Daniel Defoe.
their duty, it will either find them Whigs, er make them so.' In short, he njs,
' we have but one interest as Englishmen, whatever interest we maj have aa to
parties.'
Harley dissolved Parliament^ and Defoe made an election-
eering tour as before. He was scandalised by the scenes of
riot and drunkenness that he witnessed^ and the Review during
nearly the whole of October, 1710, was filled with descriptions
of, and protests against, the prevalent debauchery. On
February 1st, 1711, the corporation of Edinburgh empowered
him to publish the Edinburgh Courant, but it is probable that he
did not continue the publication for many weeks, as he returned
to England in the following month. His return was probably
caused by the attempt to assassinate Harley. That crime
induced Defoe to write his pamphlet, ^ Eleven Opinions about
Mr. H y, with Observations.' The merits and the faults
of the minister were set forth with professed impartiality, but
on the whole the pamphlet was favourable to its subject, and
must have been serviceable to him. At this time the national
resources had become terribly exhausted by the long war with
France. Though it had been a war fruitful of great victories^
the nation was growing heartily weary of it, and Defoe
published more than one pamphlet in favour of ending it*
Negotiations for peace were shortly afterwards set on foot, and
terminated April 11th, 1713, in the Treaty of Utrecht; Defoe
was less successinl in another cause. Once more the intolerant
Act against Occasional Conformity was brought in, and aa it
was no longer opposed by the Lords, Harley (now become
Earl of Oxford) himself supporting it, it was carried rapidly
through both Houses in spite of Defoe's manly protest. The
bigots having won this victory after so many defeats, were
encouraged to attempt another. They attacked the liberty of
the press. They put a tax upon newspapers, with the
scarcely concealed object of extinguishing a large number of
them. Defoe protested vehemently and courageously, but in
vain. For a time he carried on the Review, but on June 11th,
1713, appeared the last number, and its last line was, ^Exit
Review.' There is but one perfect set of the whole issue, and
that is in the possession of Mr. Crossley, of Manchester.
About this time Defoe got into serious trouble. Queen
Anne had lost, one by one, all her children. She was now a
widow, and there was no chance of an heir to the throne in
direct succession. At the same time the Pretender was
constantly plotting for the restoration of the Stuarts. What
more natural for a man who ardently wished to continue the
Protestant succession, than that he should call public atten-
tion to the matter f Defoe did so in several pamphlets^ one
Daniel Defoe. • 259
of them entitled, ' Hannibal at the Gktes/ another, ' Reasons
against the Succession of the House of Hanover/ and a third,
' What if the Queen should die ? ^ The second of these was a
satire upon the Jacobites, and its title was chosen in order
to induce them to read the work. Nevertheless his enemies,
the Whigs — for they had now become bitterly hostile to him,
presumably on account of the support which he had given to
Harley — accused him of Jacobitism, and instituted legal
proceedings against him. He was prosecuted by the Attorney-
General, and, in spite of his defence that he had written
things that would cause him to lose his head if the Pretender
came to the crown, and that if the Elector of Hanover had
paid him £1,000, he (Defoe) could not have served him better,
he was found guilty, and sentenced to imprisonment, the
convicting judges intimating that he was lucky to have escaped
hanging, drawing, and quartering. It was fortunate for him
that his old benefactor was in office. Oxford laid the case
before the Queen, who at once saw the malignity of the prose-
cutors, and ordered Defoe to be pardoned. For that act of
justice she and her minister were accused of favouring the
Pretender.
The deluge was at hand. Probably at no period of English
history did party spirit run so high as during the closing
month of Anne's reign. Bolingbroke, whom Oxford had
called to his aid, repaid the kindness by displacing him, and
so mad was the nation against the fallen statesman that it
was proposed to impeach him. Though riddance had been
made of one minister, there was no peace among the others.
They quarrelled so violently in the presence of the Queen as
she lay on a bed of sickness, that they hastened her death.
Then the House of Hanover appeared on the scene, and
Bolingbroke was disgraced. Oxford was in the Tower, yet
Defoe did not shrink from defending his old patron, even in
that perilous time, and even though he had by no means
approved of Oxford's policy.
The Whigs were now triumphant, and they spared nobody,
Defoe, who had laboured more than all of them for the Protest-
ant succession, found himself in serious peril by the realisation
of his moat ardent wish. He published 'An Appeal to Honour
and Justice, though it be of his Worst Enemies. By Daniel
Defoe.' ' One of the most manly, yet deeply pathetic, utter-
ances of a human heart,' says Mr. Lee. Worn out by anxiety
and over- work, stung by the ingratitude of those in whose
behalf he had toiled, he was struck down by apoplexy. He
recovered, but according to the general belief^ he retired from ^
260 Dmiel Defoe.
political life^ and devoted the remaining sixteen years of his
existence to purely Hterary employment.
It is at this point that we come to Mr. Lee's remarkable
discovery. Defoe had been brought to trial for a pamphlet
in whicn he made certain allegations against the Earl of
Anglesey, and, being found guilty, his sentence was deferred
until the following term. During the interval Defoe sent a
letter to Lord Chief Justice Parker, setting forth his own.
history. The letter had such an effect upon the Judge that
he prevented any further proceedings against Defoe, and
brought about a reconciliation between him and the Whigs.
This was followed by an engagement between them, which
Defoe fulfilled so much to their satisfaction that he received a
handsome acknowledgment. About this time. Dormer, the
proprietor of the News Letter, a Tory and High Church paper,
being unable to carry it on, offered Defoe the management of
it and a share in it. Defoe consulted the minister. Lord Towns-
hend, who thought that if Defoe responded to the offer it would
be a very acceptable piece of service, for the Letter 'was really-
very prejudicial to the public, and most difficult to come at in
a jumcial way, in case of offence given.' So Defoe entered
into partnership with Dormer, and in the hands of the first
' the sting was taken out and the mischief prevented.' Bat ' it
still seemed to be Tory in order to amuse the party and
prevent their setting xrp, another violent paper, which would
have destroyed the design.' This intrigue led to others of a
similar character. A Mr. Mist published Misi^s Journal, as
the organ of the Pretender. With Lord Sunderland's appro-
bation, Defoe offered himself as a translator of foreign news ;
but, says Mr. Lee, with the object of ' keeping the journal in
the circle of a secret management, so that it might pass as aTory
paper and yet be disabled and enervated of its treasonable
character, '^ so as to do no mischief or give any offence to the
Government." ' In this way Defoe became acquainted with
much treasonable matter useful for the ministers to know. Mr.
Lee thinks that the arrangement was justifiable on the ground
that moral suasion is better than legal repression, that pre-
vention is better than cure ; and he commends Defoe's courage
in placing himself in a position of such delicacy and danger.
As for Defoe, he silenced any scruples he might have had by
Scriptural precedent. ' Thus I bow myself in the House of
Bimmon,' was his excuse. He certainly did not like the
work, and while he was writing diluted Toryism in one pub-
lication in order to please the minister, he started an honest
Whig journal in order to please himself. It must not be
imagined that, even in the first, Defoe wrote merely on
An Aunt's Tale. 261
politics. He wrote also, and far more satisfactorily on social
topics. When he and Mist quarrelled and separated, the
latter soon learnt the value of Defoe's writing by the dimin-
ished circulation of the journal* The result was a renewal
of their relations. Some years later there was another
rupture.
Of the remainder of Defoe's career we must speak briefly*
It was on April 25th, 1719, that his most famous work was
published. He was fifty-eight years old, a time of life at which
the imagination has usually lost its energy. Nevertheless it was
at that period that 'Robinson Crusoe' was produced. It
was founded upon a meagre account, published by Captain
Bogers, of the adventures of Alexander Selkirk whom he had
rescued from a desert island. Defoe parted with the volume
for a comparatively small sum. It sold so rapidly that the
publisher made a fortune out of it. Four editions were issued
in four months. That eminent antiquarian. Sir Henry Ellis^
has attempted to rob Defoe both of his fame and of his honesty
by declaring that ' Bobinson Crusoe ' was written by the-
Earl of Oxford (Harley) while in the Tower, and that he gave*
it to Defoe who published it as his own. The truth is, that?
Harley was prostrated by illness throughout his incarceration,
and it was thought doubtful if he would live to be tried. He
was, therefore, quite incapable of writing. Some of Defoe's
later works were of questionable advantage to the public
morals. They were lives of notorious criminals. As he was
now in easy circumstances, he could scarcely have been in-
duced by the love of money to write them. Mr. Lee supposes
that Defoe, being well aware of the mischievous literature
which circulated among the lower classes, wished to substitute
for it tales which, while they would attract, had also a moral
and taught that in the long run virtue is better than vice. In
the later years of his life he was affluent, and built himself a
large house in Stoke Newington. Nevertheless, his last days
were embittered by the misconduct of his son and by apainfiil
disease. He died April 26th, 1 731, and was buried in the
Dissenting Walhalla, now known as Bunhill Fields.
AN AUNT'S TALE.
IT is many years ago now, since my niece Cecilia came first
to live with me. She was a bright-eyed, intelligent little
girl, and my solitary house was enlivened with her childish
ways and smiling speeches. She and I soon became great
262 An AunVa Tale.
friends, playmates I may say; for, old as I was, I was not too
old or too stiflF to join her in a game of ball, or a competition
with the skipping rope. Yes, I am small and light, and that
is the reason, perhaps, why I never lost the accomplishment
of skipping, not at least till Cecilia was grown np, and had
laid skipping ropes away as too childish even for her. Then
I, too, laid np my old implement on a shelf, and with a sigh of
regret, remembering onr many pleasant hours together, said
good-bye to it. Cecilia was an orphan, and had known little
of her parents, and that was one reason, no doabt, why she
clung more fondly to her old aunt, and came to consider her
in time as, in some sort, her mother. Once she called me
^ Mother,^ I remember, in a moment of unusual affection, but
I, recollecting how sacred the name was, and how dearly the
one had prized it, who had best right to be called so, and how-
much she had suffered to win the name, checked her, and
declared that I desired to be called nothing but Aunt, while I
lived. ' Aunt, dear aunt !' she exclaimed, ' I shall never love
any one better than you !' ' Some day you will, I hope, my
dear,^ was my reply. She was skipping at the time, and
ceased her skipping to look at me a moment in surprise, and
to think. And then she understood me, and a girlish flush
came into her cheeks as she said, quite innocently, ' Well, I
shouldn^t like to be an old maid.^ ^ And why not V I asked.
'Because — ^because — I think you don^t like it !^ How had she
got to know that, I wonder ? I had never said so. I had
always felt myself a peculiarly favoured individual, with rights
and freedoms that one-half the married women never get.
One-half? Two-thirds, I may say, with perfect truth. I had
never complained in her hearing of my isolated position,
never hinted at any forlornness it might have, but it was evi-
dent that Cecilia, young as she was, had guessed more than I
had intended she should know. ' You^re a little goose,' was
my answer, but she knew that she had spoken the truth, and
a roguish light came into her eyes, as she answered with glee,
' I know Pm right though, aunty I you wouldn't be an old
maid if you could help it, would you V ' Old maids are often
the happiest,' I said with proper gravity, shirking her ques-
tion, ' and I beg you won't despise them. Cissy.' ' No ; but
for all that, aunt, I hope / shan't be an old maid I' Poor
Cissy ! Her words were innocent enough, and girlish enough,
but I think she lived to find that there is a worse condition in
the world than that of an old maid.
Was it the desire not to be an old maid that led her at
nineteen to be so fond of her cousin Thomas Grey ? I thought
it a delusion at the time, and was seriously distressed at it, for
An AunPs Tale. 268
Thomas^ though likely to have wealth and good position^ was
of a roving, unsettled temperament. Good tempered, and good
looking, he was, that I could not deny, and fascinating enough
to a young girl ; and he chose very perversely to fall in love
with my bright-eyed Cecilia, who had her attractions also,
and though not exactly a beauty, was, in my opinion, really
lovely to look upon at times. She was the very light of my
eyes and the sunshine of my home at that period, and it was
grievous beyond measure to think of parting with her to any
one. Does a man ever have a due sense of the robbery he
commits when he singles out the chosen lamb of the flock, or
the only one, for his own special comfort and delight, and
carries her away in a lordly fashion to have and to hold for
evermore ? Does he ever think of the broken heart strings of
those who are left behind, that he may have a companion to
cheer and love and solace him ? He has had none of the care
and expense of the rearing, none of the thousand solicitudes
that beset parents and guardians, yet when he carries away
his bride from the altar, he is too apt to consider his own
possessions as paramount, and to forget or ignore the love
claims of the old friends at the old hearth. I should have
viewed with much selfish discontent the advent of any one
intending to take from me my own treasure, for at least ten
years to come. At nine-and-twenty, I thought I could bring
my heart /or her sake to spare her, but at nineteen it seemed
impossible. Even to the most unexceptionable lover I should
at first have turned the cold shoulder, but to Thomas Grey I
was deaf and inexorable.
Cissy turned pale when I forbade him the house, but her
love for me was great, and she acquiesced in my decision.
She told him it could never, never be; she wrote him a
letter of farewell, which she showed me, and then she put up
her mouth for me to kiss, with a forced smile on her trembling
lips, and sealed the letter resolutely and sent it. I loved her
so much at the moment, that I all but relented, and ached
with a longing to say, ' marry him, dear, if you will I' But I
did not. A stem truth was ever presont to my mind that
with him was neither stability nor happiness, and I said to
myself that Cecilia would see this herself soon, when he
should go away and forget her. I believe that her wound,
though painAil, was not incapable of healing, and that time
and separation would bring a cure. She was a brave, good
girl, and neither pined away, nor suggested by her looks that
I had been an unfeeling ogre. There was a little more gravity
in her face, and a little less buoyancy in her step, and she was
a little fonder of plaintive music; — ^that was aU. Thomas A
264 An Aunes Tale.
Chrey went away to foreign lands. He said before lie went that
he should never forget her, that she was the only woman lie
should erer love. It was the nsual rhodomontade of a
disappointed lover, I thought, and his words gave me no
apprehension. ' Has he ever been steady to any one thing in
his life ?^ I asked myself.
To disappoint me, however, he was steady in this. In two
years he returned to England, browner, taller, more manly^
more subdued in the expression of his love, but more deter-
mined than ever to win my pearl. I did not invite him to
my house. I would not see him. I guarded my treasure
jealously, but he could still write, and he wrote both to her
and to me. He avowed anew to me his resolve to dedicate
his lifers love to Cecilia — she was his star — ^his happiness — ^life
would be nothing to him without her. 1 put his letter in the
fire, though I could not but wonder at his perseverance.
' And yet, he must never have her,^ I said to myself, ' his
father was not such a father as I should desire for Cecilia, and
Thomas resembles him in some degree, and has the spirit of
unrest within him. How can I consent to such a union?'
Again my No was given, even more strongly than before, and
again Cecilia submitted, and again he went abroad, a desperate
man, as he declared. But he retilmed a second time, and yet a
third, and still a faithful lover. And my niece silently loved
him all the time, and coldly put aside other offers of marriage^
and to my sorrow I was forced to see that her best years were
passing in all the wearying dissatisfaction of a forbidden
attachment. Seven years I had opposed, but the young people
were too strong for me, and my opposition at last sank down
before them, like a wall undermined by a flood. Not without
many misgivings at first, for his family had been cursed with
an unhappiness that is only too common, and I trembled for
my darling when I thought of the danger there might be for
him and for her. Old maid as I was, I had had my expe-
riences of family life, and I could look abroad among the
families of my acquaintances, and see beneath the surfiEKse^
often so smiling and agreeable, and could point out the exact
spot where lay the treacherous pool beneath the thin plausible
ice of conventional propriety. I talked to Cecilia of my fears.
I set before her the danger of uniting herself with a man whose
father had shortened his life by excesses, and had educated
his son in the same habits ; but she smiled away my appre-
hensions, and said that she was sure nothing would persuade
Thomas to follow his father's example ; that he knew where to
draw the line between temperance and over-indulgence ; that
he was wise ; he knew the danger ; he was good, and would
An AimVs Tale. 265
never so grieve her. They had talked all this matter over
together, and my fears were without necessity. And in this
way I was talked down to believe and hope the best ; and I
acknowledge, too, that when Thomas Grey once more came
into my house as an invited visitor — I will not call him a
welcome one — I began in some measure to reproach myself
for my over-care and squeamishness. There seemed so much
good sense and so much thoughtful care and love for Cecilia^
that I felt somewhat ashamed of my long shyness and disap-
proval. Travel had improved him, I thought, and I rejoiced in
the thought. It was such a genuine joy, too, to see Cecilia
made happy. They were married, and the position he chose to
occupy was that of a gentleman fanner. He, had a small estate
not very far firom my abode, and upon it he built a pleasant
and convenient house, which was to be their home for many
years to come. Four miles was the distance between this
house and mine ; in summer an agreeable walk, and every
inch of the distance was soon perfectly known to me, as well
known as the beds and paths of my garden. Every tree and
bush on the way became familiar to me, and the bloom by
the roadside, and the heather on the windy common, fi*om
which I could first get a view of Dale House and farm, were
quite dear friends from often companionship. The last part
of the way was the pleasantest, for here Cecilia would often
meet me, the winding lane by which I came being overlooked
from her parlour windows ; and her smiling face and eager
step would be at my side long before the garden gate of her
house showed its white palings among the laurels. Thomas,
too, would sometimes come, in his first bridegroom days, and
affect to scold her for being in such haste to leave him when
my black bonnet dodged the distant hedgerow trees. That,
of course, was a happy time, happy to them and to me, for
though my own house was darker and greyer than before,
and suffered by the loss of my dear companion, and by the
contrast with Dale House, whose modem furniture and fresh
upholstery and new high rooms made my old chairs and
curtains and small house seem, like myself, wondrously old-
fashioned, I could not but rejoice at OeciUa^s happiness too
much to be anything but satisfied and glad. What did it
matter if to me came solitary hours and deepening shadows^
if, to her, hours of fuller contentment were meted out ? What,
if my heart now and then ached afler the old companionship,
if the desire of her heart was fulfilled ?
In the second year of their marriage came a change. Very
small at first, so small that, but that my thoughts were so
perpetually brooding over everything that concerned my
266 An Awnffs Tale.
adopted child, I should not have noticed the slight shade of
graver thought upon her face, the sigh now and then, the less
ready laugh, signs of an inner change that I was quick to
read and to comment upon to myself. But I asked no ques-
tions, and was resolute to see in them only the traces of the
gentle melancholy, if that be not too grave a word, that time
and household cares bring with them to most women, married
or unmarried. The first flush and joy of youth were over ; life
was become more earnest and less hopeful ; there was less
joy, but there was, I trusted, no less peace. The years went
on, and there was no promise of motherhood at Dale House ;
a disappointment to both Thomas and his wife ; and when.
Cecilia's brow became graver, and her mouth settled into
sedater curves, I attributed the change to this disappointment.
Thomas, too, changed slowly, and I did not think the change
for the better. He lost refinement, and was often querulous
and impatient. He became restless and wearied of quiet even-
ings ; and, to please him, Cecilia was seldom without visitors of
the kind he liked best, people who were gay and noisy, fi^ of
life and excitement, and with little thought. Talkailive,
fashionable guests were first invited ; and when these wearied
of coming, and could not be had, visitors of a lower grade were
sought out ; for an evening without company was to Thomas
Grey as objectionable as a house in winter without a fire. My
visits became less firequent as Dale House became lively wiiA.
guests incessantly going and coming, and it was seldom at
this time that Cecilia could find opportunity either to give me
an hour's quiet attention in her own home, or to accept one
in mine, and for a whole season the broom on the way to Dale
House turned from green to golden, and the heather on the
common to glowing purple and then to rusty brown, all
unseen by me. Not that my niece was invisible also. I
had firequent glimpses of her, on horseback or in the carriage,
among a flutter of fine people and fine dresses, smiling some-
times, laughing now and then, or giving me a tired glance
from eyes that were getting dimmer and hoUower than they
should be for the years they had seen ; but always too busy
to stay with me more than for a few minutes. I got through
long tasks in netting and knitting that summer, produced a
wonder of a counterpane, and manufactured a set of curtains
that certainly were pretty enough, but many a sigh, after past
days, was worked in with the stitches, and the counterpane,
if it could have expressed my prevailing thought, would have
been full of knitted Cecilias. ' How is the farm getting on V
was my frequent mental question ; but I remembered that
Thomas had a competent bailiff, and needed not to be always
An AwnVs Tale. 267
looking after the land. ^ He mast hare excitement/ I said^
' it is better to have the excitement of gay company than that
which brought his father to a premature grave/ And with
this poor comfort I tried to be content. Aid yet — ^how much
better it might have been ! For, it was becoming quite plain
and clear to me, that the marriage was not a successful one.
There was neither true peace nor content in it. Cecilia was
getting old and worn before her time. Thomas was getting
weary; was it of her, or of himself ? Of both, I feared. 1 callea
this my twilight thought, which came to me when I was seated
alone near my parlour window, watching the grey world get
greyer beneath the darkening sky. As the light decayed,
my hope decayed with it, and Cecilia's future seemed dark
indeed. But when the night was passed, and the bright
beams of morning smote joyfully my opening eyes, a corre-
sponding brightness came over my anticipations, and Dale
House and its inmates had no sad experiences to expect, and
my twilight thought was a fancy merely.
The seventh anniversary of their wedding-day came round,
and I had been invited for weeks beforehand to the customary
entertainments. I had had a slight touch of rheumatism, and
had striven to be excused from making one at the wedding
dinner, but Cecilia was so much in earnest that I should go,
that there was nothing to do but to yield to her wish. To
please me, it was to be a very quiet affair ; not above a dozen
to dinner, and a very, very little dancing afterwards just for
the young people of the neighbourhood, who were only to have
tea. ' W ell, my dear,' said I, ' if it is necessary that such an
old woman as I should be present to look on ^
' Of course it is necessary, quite necessary. We couldn't
do without you ; we never did yet,' was the reply. ' And I
do want you so much; more than I can tell you. What a
while it is since you came to see us — ^months, I believe.'
' Months, I know/ thought I, but I did not say so. ' Ifc will
all be the fresher to me. And who have you at the house
now ?' I asked.
' Oh, those shooting people, the Ghrants, and Miss Hopwood,
that's all.'
' Miss Hopwood with you yet ? She's been with you all the
summer, hasn't she ?'
' Yes ; pretty nearly.'
' Do you like her, Cecilia ?' I asked, after a little pause that
came over us both simultaneously.
' No,' she said frankly, ' I don't like her, and I think you
will not.'
' Then why do you keep her so long ?'
268 An Aunfs Tale.
' To tell you the truth, I scarcely know how to get rid of
her. She^s convenient to have at times, to entertain the
people when Vm tired out, for Tm getting terribly tired of
such a constant bustle, and she knows how to make herself
agreeable. She^s styHsh too, and Thomas likes stylish
women .^
Cecilia said all this quickly, and with an afiTectation of in-
difference, but I was not deceived. I saw she was annoyed
with Miss Hopwood, and I said, ' Take my advice, and send
her home.'
' She cannot go now till after the party. She and I are to
have dresses alike. Thomas has bought us a handsome silk
a-piece. He thinks we're a little indebted to her, as she takes
the care and trouble from me at times.'
' She's poor then ?'
' Well, she isn't rich. Not rich enough to reftise a new silk
dress, especially if it's a handsome one. Her friends are
respectable, though, and she has quite a large acquaintance.
We got to know the Grants through her.'
'No great loss if you hadn't known them/ I said, abruptly.
' No. But Thomas is wonderfiiUy taken up with them. He's
out shooting with them most days. I tell him there soon
won't be a partridge on the place.'
' What pleasure can gentlemen find in shooting poor harm-
less birds. Cissy ? To me it seems stupid and cruel both.
I don't know which most.' Cecilia looked grave. 'Tell
Thomas so when you see him.'
' He would not Hsten to me, especially if his Mends the
Grants were by. Bat I will try him nevertheless.'
'What a life this is!' I exclaimed involuntarily. 'The
company of frivolous people, and the shooting of birds that
God has made to be happy and free ! Does he never think of
anything higher ? Do you never think of anytliing higher,
CeciUa?'
' Sometimes,' she said, with a sigh. ' But of what use is it
thinking ?'
'A great deal; if thinking leads to acting. You didn't
always think life was made for nothing but fine dress
and fine company. You had desires after something better
and nobler, and you used to talk of the good you would do
when you were married and had a home of your own. Why
don't you act out those good desires ?'
Cecilia looked uncomfortable and conscience-stricken, and
the tears rose to her eyes as she replied, ' It is so diflicult !
But I think I could do better, if Thomas would let me.'
'Don't wait for Thomas,' I answered. 'Begin at once
An Aun^s Tale. 269
yourself. You wait for the river going by, I fear, if you wait
for him to begin a change ; let him see you determined for a
better life for yourself, and draw him after you, if you can.
If not '
I paused ; but she asked anxiously, ^ And what, if not ?'
^ Then you must walk the upper road alone. Of what use
is it that both of you should sink ? But I think if you were
truly in earnest, and he saw it, he has loye enough for yon,
and respect enough for what is good, to follow you.'
'I wish I thought sol But you don^t know all that
opposes. It isn^t only gay company and shooting that stand
in the way. There's something else/ And she looked
gloomily at the opposite wall.
I spared her the confession, for I thought I knew what sh^
meant. 'Yes,' I said, 'there's something else that he's
getting to love better than noble living. Mind he doesn't
get to love it better than yourself 1 He will do in a while, if
you do not make a stand for him and for yourself, for alcohol
is a jealous companion, and will have no rivals, and the nearest
and dearest have to give way to it. You know how it shortened
his father's life, how it ruined his fair name, and how it dragged
down his better nature into the mire of sensuality ; but then,
in his latter days, he had no wife to stay his slidmg footsteps,
no one near him to be his better angel I'
Cecilia went home without the smile that had enlivened her
face on entering my cottage, but I did not regret that I had
chased it from her lips. It was time, I thought, that she
began a more truly thoughtful life, and looked at her respon-
sibilities fairly. A butterfly existence is perhaps the only
possible one for some natures ; she was formed for something
more important.
The chaise was sent for me early on the wedding-day, for I
had to Jbielp to adorn the drawing-room, and to give general
advice to servants and mistress when necessary. At least
this was what Cecilia said, though my office of helper was all
but a sinecure, and of adviser, quite so, as I found flowers and
china arranged not far from peifection beforehand, and each
servant at her place quite understanding the work before her.
Miss Hopwood had anticipated me in various little works that
I had been in the habit of performing on similar occasions,
and there was nothing for me to do but to sit lazily in an easy
chair till dinner time, and comment inwardly upon what I saw
before me. The house had been partly refurnished since I
had been there before ; there were some luxurious lounges and
settees set here and there about the drawing-room, of lutherto'
unknown form and shape to me ; a few expensive pictures and
270 An AunVa Tale.
flower vases that displayed themselves with an air and told
you they were just imported, and a new grand piano instead
of the walnut cottage that had seemed so all-sufficient a few
years before. I did not quarrel with these things ; I only
hoped the farm was prospering, and wondered whether so
much additional grandeur had added to the happiness of its
possessors. Miss Hopwood proved to be a tall, dark-haired
young lady, without beauty of face, but with a certain self-
asserting grace about her, difficult to describe^ She was
dressed with a good deal of effect, and though her silk dress
was exactly of the colour and quality of her hostesses, it
managed to shine with greater lustre and to fall in better
folds. Not that Gecilia^s was wanting in fit or handsomeness ;
away &om Miss Hopwood's it seemed all but perfection;
nearer, it took duller, commoner lights and shadows. And
the same might be said of its wearer when she sat or stood by
the plain-looking young lady. I thought Cecilia seemed
aware of the unfavourable comparison, and was at the same
time repelled and attracted by her easy guest. Now and then
a slight shadow of discontent flitted across her brow, but it
did not stay long, — she recalled her cheerfulness with an
effort. Was not this her wedding-day, on which she must
appear full of smiles and enjoyment r
At dinner I was introauced to the shooting friends of
Thomas Grey, the two brothers Grant, young men with loud
voices, and broad, brawny shoulders ; with exceptionally red
faces, and with hair and whiskers of a still redder hue, of the
true colour and build for men of the gun and the chase. It was
not at all a formal dinner, with made dishes and solemn waiters
to perplex and silence plain people, but a cheerful, substantial
meal, with not too much ceremony or gravity about it. Jokes
went round very freely, and nobody was thought the worse
for a hearty laugh. The clergyman and his two sisters were
genial, friendly people, and the doctor was proverbial for
hilarity on festive occasions. The other guests were easy,
well-content people, whom a little served to amuse. Miss
Hopwood did more than her share to entertain my niece's
visitors, but this was almost necessary, as both Thomas and
Cecilia seemed pre-occupied and ill at ease, though they strove
hard to conceal it. They had to play the parts of a happy
couple who could congratulate and be congratulated with per-
fect pleasure, but I, who knew them well, saw that they were
not just then the people they wished to appear to be. What
was it that had made them thus uncomfortable ? Had Cecilia
been trying to inculcate temperance against her husband's
wish ? K so, she had been unsuccessful in obtaining present
An AunVs Tale. 271
good result, for when the gentlemen joined ns in the drawing-
room after dinner, more than one of them had overstepped the
limits of true sobriety. Thomas Grey was overflowing with a
sort of politeness that comes to some men from frequent use
of the contents of the bottle, and his face was radiant with un-
suppressed self-content. He had for a time forgotten all
annoyances ; and could I have forgotten whence he derived
his geniality, I might have had genuine pleasure in the change.
He looked handsome as of old, with the bright colour on his
cheeks and the bright light in his eye, and was now as warmly
attentive to his wife, as he had lately been constrained and
cold. But she received his attentions with little pleasure, and
Boon slipped away from him and them, with a mortified expres-
sion, and a look of sadness in her downcast eyes. She did
not venture to glance towards me, and I was too sorry for her
to wish that she should.
Then came tea and the young people and the dance, and
everybody was merry and ^y, at least m appearance. We older
folk sat and looked on, and Cecilia remained with us after one
dance with the doctor. But her husband found dancing more
agreeable, and he and Miss Hopwood were partners time after
tune, to their great content. She was much admired for her
elegant dancing, and he seemed glad to be admired at her side,
and expressed his gladness in rather a boisterous way. I grew
tired in a while of the motion and the music, and retreated to
a quiet comer of the distant breakfast-room, where one lamp
and a small fire gave me a pleasant, subdued welcome after so
much noise and glare. I had taken the privilege of a relative
and an old woman, and did not wish to be disturbed, so I
took the precaution of shutting the door behind me, and,
leaning back in a roomy chair, should soon, perhaps, have fallen
asleep had not a sudden irruption on my silence disturbed
me. It was caused by Cecilia's entrance. Her face was very
pale, and its expression gloomy. She did not see me, but
going quickly to the table, where stood some decanters and
glasses, she proceeded to pour out for herself a glass of wine,
and at once to drink it off, and this she did again and again
with a feverish, and, to me, very frightful sort of eagerness.
There was no pause or stay between each glass further than
was necessary to pour it full. I counted four glasses thus
swallowed, and then as a fifth was being poured out I
recovered from my astonishment, and thought it quite time
to let her know of my presence. ^ Cecilia I ' I exclaimed, in a
tone of surprise. She put down the glass which she had just
lifted, with a start. ' What are you doing ? ' I asked.
^ A quick flush of shame dyed her cheeks, and I saw her
272 An Aunt's Tale.
hand tremble^ but she managed to reply, ' Drowning trouble,
aunt I'
' Drowning trouble ? You are bringing it on ! Are you in
the habit of taking wine in this way ? What does it mean ? '
' It means I am unhappy — ^very unhappy ; and if Pm to
keep up any longer I must have something. I came here to
be alone/
' Alone ! To drink ! And would that make it any better ?
Oh^ Cecilia, you are going to the wrong comforter 1 But
what makes you so unhappy 7^
' I can^t tell you now ; it's a long tale. But don^t look so
shocked. I don^t often do in this way I '
This assurance was no comfort to me, as it told me that this
was not the first time she had tried to drown trouble in wine.
^ I donH often do in this way ! ' She had sometimes then done
so before. I looked at her in silent dismay. Only seven
years married this very day, if, indeed, the day was not
already past, and already seeking to drown trouble in wine !
There was, too, a sort of desperate putting o£f of shame in her
avowal that was exceedingly painful to me. How many more
glasses would she have taken if I had not interrupted her f
One or two, or perhaps four, more 7 But no, she could surely
not intend to intoxicate herself. Alas 1 how could I tell how
many she might not now be able to drink without doing that f
She had sat down, or rather sunk down, upon a chair while
these thoughts were passing through my mind; and with her
hands before her face seemed to be awaiting further words
from me. Was it despair or shame that made her hide her
fisbce 7 I could not believe it was the first, and took courage
when I thought it might be the last. I rose up, and putting
my hand upon her shoulder, said, ' Why did not you come to
me for comfort. Cissy 7 I should have made a better consoler
than wine can be. Or if your trouble could not be told to
human ears, why not to Grod 7 His ears are always open to
your cry.^
She murmured something, but I could not tell what, and
then rose up suddenly, wiped away some tears that had just
started into her eyes, and left me alone. She had gone back
to her company, where I suppose she thought her presence
was needed. In a little while I followed her, and saw her
standing with a smile upon her lips, bidding the curate and
his sisters good night.
' We Ve had a very pleasant evening, Pm sure!' said the
doctor's wife, as she pinned up her gown for her walk home.
' Pm so glad I' said Cecilia.
' Such a pleasure to see such a happy couple I I always say
An Auni?8 Tale. 273
to Mr. Tttcker, where will you see a happier couple than at Dale
House ? You're quite an example to the country, my dear Mrs.
Grey ! If everybody were like you we might send the Divorce
Coiurt to Jericho. Mr. Tucker always says, where will you
find such a couple V And the old lady looked up at Ceciha
with veiy shining and very silly eyes, that, with her speeches,
made me wonder whether the wine had not been just a little
too much for her. But, to be sure, my mind just then was
running upon wine.
' We're much obliged to you and Dr. Tucker,' was the reply.
' Yes, my dear, you are indeed, if you knew all ! And when
shall we be seeing you at the Firs ? Now don't say you're too
busy, for I won't hear it; you never come !'
As I said, or meant to say, we had not too much gentility or
ceremony at this little festal gathering, and, I think, not much
penetration, for all seemed pleased and satisfied with host and
hostess, though, of course, in a while afterwards everybody was
saying, ' I knew something was wrong at the time ; Mrs. Grey,
poor thing, was not quite herself .' But I am anticipating.
The next day Cecilia was taken ill ; the exertion of the
previous day had been too much for her, it was said, though I
must confess I did not believe it. Bodily exertion, which
was what was meant, was always good for her, and she had
certainly not had too much of that. As I hastened to her
bedside, I had many painful thoughts, anticipating a con-
fession firom her of humiliation and trouble. ' What is it, my
dear?' I asked, as I held her feverish hand in mine, and
looked anxiously in her face for the answer. ' What ails you ?'
The tears rose up in her large, overlight eyes, as she repHed
with some difficulty, ' I want to tell you, but I don't know how
to begin ! I have been very foolish and very wicked ! Sit
down, there, behind the curtain, please, then I shan't see you,
and you won't see me, while I tell you.'
I did so, and she went on. ' It's more than a year ago
since all this misery began. Till about that time I had con-
fidence in Thomas's settled love for me, and though he wasn't
all I wished, yet I think his heart never went away from me.
But he was getting very fond of the companionship of
farmers who could smoke cigars and drink spirits, and of
gentlemen of the same kind also ; the more they could do
these things, the better he liked them. At least it seemed so
to me, and sometimes I complained to him how much of his
time and his money and ms health were being wasted by
such society. But after laughing at me a little for my
squeamishness, he would say, sometimes, '^ The fact is. Cissy,
a man wants something more than tea and slops when he's
Vol. 12.— No. 47. B
274 An Aunfs Tale.
been riding about the farm half the day^ and Pm tired to
death of the milk and water women that you get aboat you
here^ and must have society that'll put a little life into me.
A man wants to be with men." I thought of these words a
good deal^ though I didnH quite believe them all^ because I
saw that it was the spirits and the wine that he cared much
more for^ than even men's society^ and I determined to get
about me some one who should not be milk and water — some
lady companion or other who should help me to wean him
from a dangerous habit. I ought to have consulted you^ dear
aunt^ about all this^ but my pride wouldn't let me do it ; it
wouldn't let me confess to you, as I must have done to
make you understand my position, that my marriage was a
failure. You had withstood it for so many years, and had
always prophesied some ill end to our union, for you knew
Thomas in those days better than I did, that I could not bear
to have to confess to you my discomfort, and my husband's
growing partiality for drink. Then, too, I didn't like to tell
you his little speech about milk and water women ; it would
seem to you, I thought, that he meant a personal disparage-
ment, though I don't believe that he thought of you at all
when he said it. It seemed to me the wisest plan to get
some spirited lady-friend who should help me to win the
battle against the bottle, and I congratulated myself very
much when I persuaded Miss Hopwood to make this house
her home for a while. She was not handsome, so much the
better ; but she was talented and gay, ready to amuse, full of
life and animation, and as we both disliked the incessant
smell of spirits and cigars in the house, we waged war
against them with what we thought proper and lady-like
weapons. Miss Hopwood could follow the hounds, talk
politics, write poetry, and entertain guests, and at first I
thought her perfection, and just the help that I wanted. My
plan seemed to succeed. The cigar smoking, spirit drinking,
farmers were less and less to be seen in our house, and only
those gentlemen came that had some intellectual qualifica-
tions. Thomas sat for fewer hours in the dining-room, and
more in the drawing-room. I could once more make sure of
his presence with me of an evening, and I was at some pains
to get about me lively fashionable people that he could not by
any possibility call humdrum. You must have noticed how
much gayer we have been this last summer. I did not feel
that it was exactly the best thing to do, for of course our
expenses increased, but then, it seemed the only possible
thing to wean Thomas from something worse. And, I
thoughtj we have no children to provide for, so that it matters
An Aunfs Tale. 275
less how mucli we spend. It was all very false reasoning,
very unwise, for I was only plucking up one weed to plant
another, even if I succeeded. I was giving him one false excite-
ment for another, that was all. And my plan did not succeed, for
though less wine and spirits were drunk, it was only because
a rather newer pleasure had for a while taken their place. He
was fond of music, and Miss Hopwood's sones pleased him
better than mine ; her voice, perhaps, also. I didn't think of
that at first, but by-and-by it struck me painfully. Then, she
could at any time bring a smile upon his face ; and I began to
perceive that I had no such power. He would always be
ready to accompany her on walk or drive ; but he had twenty
excuses if I desired his company. Do you see it all? I
began to grow jealous, and fretful, and suspicious, and sadly
wanted to dismiss my guest ; but when I attempted it, I found
I could not do so without making a scene — a thing I hated.
How often I longed and yeeumed to tell you all ! I have been
on the eve of it time after time, but something always
prevented me, either my pride or my shame, or want of fit
opportunity. Yes, I began to despair in a while. I saw
myself encompassed about in my own net, and could not
escape ; and then to soothe the bitter moment I took wine,
more and more. It helped me over many a crisis. It made
me forget for a while. But I cannot tell you how I hated and
despised myself for this weakness. I, who had thought to
cure my husband, to fall into the same evil habit ! I, who
had preached so against it to you — to Miss Hopwood —
to everybody ! Tou may imagine the state of mind I was in
sometimes. But I am tired of this long tale, and too ill to go
into details. So I will pass on till the day before yesterday,
when I determined to have it out with Thomas. I had been
longing to talk to him ever since you and I had spoken of my
duty ; what I ought to do for him. Ah I you cfid not know
what I ought to do for myself, or you would have given me a
more severe lesson ! I told him that I was intending to give
Miss Hopwood notice to go home to her friends. He asked
what for ? I said that it would be better for my peace of
mind that she went, and for his honour. He went into a
furious passion, and accused me of unreasonable jealousy. He
said she was the only sensible person in the house, and if I
sent her away I must expect him to go too, or something to
that effect. He would not have been so angry, and said so
much, only that he had been with the dnnk; but I was
foolish enough to dare him to go, for I also was not quite
myself. I luEtd been obliged to take wine to get over the
276 An Armfs Tale.
wretched day. And then ^he stmck me ! and I know
IshaUdieP
Here she showed me a sad sights a braised and discoloured
breast^ very much swollen, and very painfial. Shocked, I drew
back, exclaiming, 'And you concealed this all yesterday ? Yon
let us come and go without a word about it ! How you must
have suffered, my poor child ! What a cruel thing ; this is
frightful y And then seeing her state of excitement I began
to soothe, and recommended that Dr. Tucker should at once
be sent for. But she would not hear of it. ' No,' she said,
decidedly, 'how can I send for Dr. Tucker and tell him that
my husband struck me I And if I did not tell him he would
find it out. It is impossible. I must bear it without that.
You know some remedy, don't you ? Though, indeed, it will
never be cured — never ! '
I applied arnica, and in a while she was soothed and in less
pain, and could tell me more of her trouble, which I allowed
her to do, seeing that it was a relief to her mind to pour out
her lon^ concealed grief. And first I asked her if Miss
Hopwood knew all the mischief she was causing by her pre-
sence ? ' K she does not, she is very blind,' was the answer,
' though of course she doesn't know about this'— pointing to
her breast, ' but she must know how unhappy she makes me
by her attentions to Thomas; she must have seen '
' Have you ever said anything to her directly about it ?'
' Not directly. I scorned to let her see that I cared for
her.'
I thought if my poor Cecilia had scorned other and worse
things, it would have been much better for her, but I said,
quietly, ' If so, it is quite possible she is not aware, and is
innocent of any great wrong. She has been imprudent, —
worse than imprudent, perhaps, — ^but she may not be guilty of
what you fear — a desire and determination to take Thomas's
affections away from you.'
' She must be aware I' Cecilia said, with vehement bitter-
ness.
I knew how unjust jealousy frequently makes its unhappy
victim, so I did not pay too much attention to her words, but
concluded to have an interview with the young lady, and get
her at once to leave the house, whether innocent or guilty. It
was certainly high time that she was away ; so, towards even-
ing, when my niece had sunk into a feverish slumber, I left
her as gently as possible, and made my way to the drawing-
room. Here was Miss Hopwood alone, reading a novel that
had just come from the library. ' How is Mrs. Grey,' she
asked, when I entered the room ;' it is so strange that she
An Aunfs Tale. 277
^ill not let me see her or nurse her !* I looked keenly at her,
to find whether this speech was from an unsuspecting heart,
or a wily one, but her face told me very little. She had
attained the polite accomplishment of the smile that sits upon
the countenance at once as an ornament and a veil, and I did
not know what to make of her. But I walked boldly up to
her, seated myself by her side, and entered into explanations
that must have been very painful, if she had a feeling hearty
und that certainly were very surprising, according to her own
account. Her novel dropped n'om her knee, and her hands
were soon clasped in a sort of ecstasy of wonder. ' But my
dear lady, how could I suppose so V was her chief exclama-
tion and question ; ' I had no idea that Mrs. Grey was of so
jealous a temper !* ' No, perhaps not,' was my answer, ' but
now that you do know, you cannot £&il also to see what is the
right thing for you to do.' ' You mean that I must go away V
The poHte smile had vanished, and a momentary expression of
dismay and anxiety had crossed her face^ as though she were
wondering what home was open to her elsewhere ; but she
rose up at once, and with a slight and hasty arrangement of
her dress (she was always very particular about her appear-
ance), said, hastily, 'Can I have Jane to help me to pack up V
When she had left the house, which she did without much
ceremony or leave-taking, I repaired to the sick room, and
found Cecilia awake. It was a great relief to her to find that
Miss Hopwood was gone, but she shed some bitter tears over
the hunuliation of the last few days. ' She will tell all her
friends V she exclaimed, weakly. ' She will scarcely do that,
for her own sake,' was my reply. ' Oh, she will make her own
side out to be all right, and mine ' ' All wrong, you mean ?
Well, we cannot help that ; time will show which was the side
of truth and right.' ' You think she is innocent, aunt ; I can
see you do ! You believe her tale, and not mine !' And as
Cecilia said this, she rose up in bed, and looked at me with
wild feverish earnestness. 'Lie down, dear! We will not
talk about it now ; though I think you ought to be glad to
believe that your suspicions are without very serious foun-
dation. I think if you had not flown to the wine as a comforter
you would have seen all this sad affair more calmly, and have
saved yourself much needless anguish.'
She lay down again, and became very silent, but I saw the
tears rolling slowly down her cheeks on to the pillow. I let
them flow unnoticed, really glad to see them. Such trouble
as hers must have an outlet, and such tears were the best
relief. When evening closed in, I sought Thomas Grey, and
had a long and serious conversation with him. He was inclined
278 An AunVa Tale.
m
to be offended and moody. My sadden dismissal of Mis»
Hopwood had not pleased him^ but it was no time to care for
his displeasure. I set before him faithfully the picture of his
errors ; warned him of the further ill consequences that might
ensue^ and asked him whether he would not now make a standi
and strive after a new and better life. His coldly averted face
turned towards me at last^ when I showed him that I knew
the cause of Cecilia's illness^ and besought him as he loved her
and himself to give up entirely intoxicating drinks. ' Have
they not been the great exciting cause of j31 this misery V I
asked. He could not say No. But he did as so many others
do^ he put from him all thoughts of amendment^ and said it
was impossible to live without them. No doubt he thought
his wife's illness temporary, and that she would soon be well,
and all things would go on as usual ; and no doubt, too, my
warnings were looked upon by him as the morbid fears of a
nervous woman. He was sorry for what he had done, but not
with the sorrow of true repentance.
Cecilia never recovered the blow given in his drunken anger.
It is true she lingered for two years longer, but died at last
worn out by the agonising sufferings of cancer; her youth
and health and strength brought down to the grave by a
disease that might never have reached her but for drink. Sha
lived to be sincerely repentant of her own folly, but she had
not the satisfaction of seeing her husband a reformed man.
He had fits of remorse and self-reproach, but they were soon
over, and the old comforter — the bottle, was ever near at hand,
with its magical drinks, to put conscience to sleep, and to
bring jfrom the dark recesses of the world of evil, those de-
ceiving ghosts of happiness and animal pleasure that the
drunkard mistakes for and embraces as angels of light. When
his wife died, the farm was found to be unremunerative ; it
had, in fact, been so for some years, and as his expenses had
been beyond his income, he had to leave it with straitened
means. With the wreck of his property he left England for
Australia, and died on the passage; — hoWj I have always-
dreaded to inquire.
( 279 )
STATISTICAL DATA FOR SOCIAL RKPORMEES.
CoHSuifPTiON OP CoKK IK THB Froduc- enormous quantity were diyided amoDg
TiOR OF Irtoxicatiko Dsi5ks 15 1868. the whole population, in families of fire
rr, lA m • 11 z J J • peraons, it would allow 10 bushels of
I^. malt offlcially reported •• ««d in ^^ f^, f,^ ^ buAel U
^r^?^5°\'^K*\^«i.-"K*®^® T calculated to 'yield wholesome food
5*^,583 buaheK which may be 1 1<, 15 {^ pound loare. ; to that
tnj^ as equiT^t to as many budiels ^ 4^ i^,^ ^„, produced, would,
rf barley ; for though eight bushels of i„thetotal, amount to nearly a thousand
barley make (by the sweU.ng of the aiUion8(955.l93,623)-or 150 loaves to
gmn) nme of malt, yet «» B«nse faiily'm the Uiuted Kingdom,
offioers grant an •Uowmoe which teinp „ j^ jutAution were confined to one
down the quanhtr of msJt rated to f^^^ j„ f gOO loaves would be
n^rW 'bout the bulk of barley «aed. ^j 'j ^^ ^^ ^^^ f„„a i„.
Of thui malt the amount <»i«mned in eo„gderable yearly allowanw. in itself,
^K* !S."^T *;"?'813 »»«,1|<>>«. of the rtaff of life.' It may be said that
which produced (rKkoninglS gallons ^^^^ „j 4,,^ ;„ ,^ i/brewing and
to eight bushel.) lO^^Wa gaUons; ^jyj; ^„«ij „„t ^^ ,„i,,bll for
but the »Pinto produced, exd^ng consumption as bread, because not
^'flA???/ n ""^K "'O'ifted to ^t,b£ to the people of thU country,
^i^" ? ^K ' '"• ""i^.S^vw Though this maybe true, the fact as to
faoture of the remumng 12.427,6^ ^^ dLteuction of «> much nutritious
^°s ^9?|.>fl r K^ '^^ S°"?'r r g»i° " not """ected ; and the Und on
was 5,023,3.8 bushels. Theb<"helspf Ky^h this com now grows would
gram thus consumed were, therefore, in Mainly be available for tlie growth of
the aggre^te 59,«60,9H ; and if an ^.^.J^ „, ^^ ^^j^^ ,„»,d e„ter
eshmato 19 made for the probable directly, or indirectly, into the house-
growth of grain on land usedm hop- ^ y oiisumption of the popuUtion at
n?7 SS« 1^*^^^^. "T't Pr^""'?* Urge. The truth remainris declared
^^Jv^'"^*''^""* ^°' ^^ '^'° by Tor. Erasmus Darwin more than two
?S^ 7.?^ .^ •"*^' .'" 1 ^SS generations ago-' The food of the peo-
I Pi*^ """i:* '^^ tt 1.500,766 Se is taken ^d converted into poilrai.'
Dushels) — we have from these calcula- *^ *^
tions the following result:— Tiib Judicul Statistics for 1867-8.
Com used in brewing in Biuheis. ,. , ^ . ,
1868 49,787.770 The bulky document m light-blue
Com used in distilling in <^\^l ^^^^^ ^J" *^f ^^^' J^^**/*^'"
|g^ ] Q QJ3 ]^4| oial Statistics of England and Wales for
Hod land mighthave prol ' ' i®^'!jf^^«J?^®"^ ^l ^^ •^^
^oed in 1868 f.... 2,317.896 ^ept 29th, 1868. The pohoe employed
Sugar used in browing, nunabered 25,832 (an increaae of 1,759
Annul tn 1 fvu\ 7RR 1^ the year), at a cost (all expenses m-
"^"^^^ ^'^-^^ eluded) of ^£2,084,596. 118.^. The
Loss of oora in brewing persons kno^ to belong to the criminal
and distilling in 1868... 63,679.575 «1»»^ including tramps and yagranta,
° prostitutes, and * suspected persons,'
This result, it will be seen, is irre- were 118,390, of whom 16,074 were
spectiye of the waste of fruit in the under sixteen years of age ; the males
manufacture of cider, perry, and British were 69,190, and the females 49^0.
wines; nor does it toucn upon the The total number for 1866-7 was
waste of grapes, sugar, and other 112,403. The houses of bad character
nutritious substances used in the manu- are returned as 20,080. Of these, 5,730
facture of intoxicating drinks (rum, are stated to be ' the resorts of thieves
brandy, geneva, and wines) imported and prostitutes ;* and in this number
into the British Islands in 1868. are found 2,037 public-houses and
The amount of food represented by 2,117 beershops. The public-houses
63,679,575 bushels of grain is extra- with this black brand are three per
ordinary. In bulk it is about as much cent, of the licensed houses, all of
as the annual com produce of Scot- whom are legally supposed to be in the
land (excluding seed reserved). If this hands of fit and proper owners. The
280
Statistical Data for Social Reformers,
indictable orimes known to have been
committed in the year were 59,080, bat
the persons apprehended were only
•29^29 ; males 22,817, females 6,712.
Of the whole number, 20,108 were com-
mitted for triaL The oases of murder
were 129, and attempts to murder 61.
The cases of manslaughter were 245.
The number of cases proceeded against
summarily (i.e., before local magis-
trates) were 490,752, and the conyic-
tionswere 347,458; of males 288,117,
of females 59,341. The cases proceeded
against were more by 16,087 than those
of 1S66-7, and the oonyictions were
12,099 more, and the proportion of
female oases was greater. Tne oohyIc-
tions were followed by 215,174 fines,
and 87,364 terms of imprisonment,
Torying from fourteen days to above
six months. The cases of assault were
92,978, of which 2,690 were 'aegra-
yated assaults on women and children.'
The cases of drunk and disorderly con-
duct were 111,465, making, with the
assaults, a total of 204,443, or 42 per
cent of the whole number, in almost
the whole of which strong drink was
the instigating cause of the ofienoe.
The cases of £nnk and disorderly for
seyeral years are glyen below, with
their percentage of the total summary
charges : —
1863-4 100,067 ... 23 per cent.
1864-5 105,310 ... 23
1865-6 104,368 ... 22
1866-7 100,357 ... 21
1867-8 111,465 ... 23
In the classification of ' character,* 577
habitual drimkards (47^ males, 102
females) are returned as apprehended
for indictable offences, and 33,902,
(25,573 males, 8,329 females) as pro-
ceeded against summarily; but it is
explained that these ' habitual drunk-
aros' are not among those otherwise
classed as known ' thieyes,' * prostitutes,'
' yagrants,' 'suspicious characters,' 'pre-
vious good character,* 'character un-
known.' It is a notable fact that of
the indictable ofiences 6,756 (24 per
cent.), and of the summary cases 187,694
(38 per cent), were charged against per-
sons of 'previous good character,* besides
nearly an equal number afcribed to per-
sons of ' character unknown ;* and put-
ting these together we have a total of
371,144 cases out of 520,281 arising
from the misconduct of men and
women who might have been supposed
as unlikely to commit crime as toe rest
of the community. Why they did
commit it is explained in five ca«es out
of six by the public-house and beer-
shop. The inquests of the year were
24,774 (on males 17,476, on females
7,298). and in 320 cases (13 in the 1.000)
the verdict of ' excessive drinking' was
returned. Among the other verdiets
were 261 of murder, 235 of man-
slaughter, 1,546 of suicide. 11,033 of
accidental death, 2,824 of found dead,
while 8,094 are ascribed to causes un-
named. But for the action of intoxi-
cating drink, it may be safely oonduded
that these nearly 25,000 inquests would
have dropped to one-half. The inquests
for 1866-7 were 24,648. Among the
inquests of 1867-8, no fewer than 6,796
were on children of seven years and under,
and of these children 1 ,348 were illegiti-
mate. The costs of the inquests were
.£76,520. 2s. 7d., an average of £S, Is. 9d.
a case. The number of prisoners was
158,480(male8 121,086, females 37 ,394),
of whom 1,800 were under twelve years
of age. The daily average of nersons
imprisoned was 18,677, and the nigbesc
number in prison at one time waa
23,09a The deaths were 200— no dis-
credit to the abstinence regimen im-
Eosed upon the prisoners, whatever
ave been their previous habits. The
prison o£&oers of all grades were 2,509,
and the prison expenses of all kinds
for the year were ^£691,378. 19s. 7d.,
of which only ^649,180. 10s. 6d. were
repaid by profits of prisoners' labour,
&c. The convict prisons, which are
separately grouped, had 9,906 inmates
during ths year, who were under the
supervision of 1,302 officers, in estab-
lishments that cost £257,307. 5s. 7d.
The offenders in custody in reformato-
ries during the year were 5,437, sup-
ported at a cost to the nation of £62,309,
in addition to which there is an indus-
trial school at Feltham, Middlesex,
whieh had 591 in detention, and 52
other certified industrial schools, with
3,684 children. There were also 953
criminal lunatics under detention during
the year, at a cost of i£35,753. Is. 8d.
It may be interesting to present some
of the statistics in regard to apprehen-
sions of persons drunk, or drunk and
disorderly, the total number of which
in the year ending September 29, 1867,
was 111,465. The selections have re-
spect to places having a population
according to the census of 1861 of
20,C00 and upwards. One caution, and
SlatisUeal Data for Social Reformers.
281
it is of the greatest importance, must
first be giyen — that the returns do not
ofler a means of strict comparison be-
tween the yarious cities and boroughs,
as there is no uniform police rule rela-
tive to apprehending drunken persons,
or their registration as such. Of course
only a small proportion of the drunk
and drunk and disorderly persons in anj
town are eyer apprehendea : —
a
District. S
1
Metropolitan dis-
trict (including
a radius of 15
miles roundCha-
ring Cross, ex-
cept the City of
London) 3,109,172
liyerpool 443,938
Manchester 338,722
Birmingham 296,076
Leeds 207,165
Sheffield 185,172
Bristol 164.098
City of London... 112,063
NewoastleK>n-T3me 109,108
Bradford 136,218
Salford 100,449
JcLull •...••••.• Vftvul
Portsmouth 94,546
Preston 82,985
Sunderland 78,211
Brighton 77,693
Norwich 74,891
Nottingham 74,693
Oldham 72,333
Bolton 70,395
Leicester 68,065
Blackburn 63,126
Plymouth 62^599
Wolyerhampton... 60,860
Stockport 54,682
Birkenhead 52,958
Bath 52,628
Deyonport 60,440
Southampton 46,088
Derby 43,091
Swansea 41,606
Coventry 40,936
York 40,433
Eoohdale 38.114
Ipswich 37,950
WalsaU 37,760
Wigan 37,658
HaSfax 37,014
18,872
14.451
9,540
2,310
1,364
1,022
814
446
1,762
285
637
963
289
875
600
148
103
179
528
1,217
304
886
367
338
893
398
216
53
280
262
220
159
289
743
120
100
442
296
Macclesfield 36,101
South Shields ... 36,239
Ashton-under-Lyne 34,886
Great Yarmouth.. 34,810
Tynemouth 34,021
Exeter 33,738
Gateshead 33,587
Cardiff 32,954
Northampton 32,813
Worcester 31,227
Chester 31,110
Carlisle 29,417
Oxford 27,560
Warrington 26,431
Cambridge 26,361
Dover 25,325
Beading 26,045
Stalybridge 24,921
Colchester 23,809
Wakefield 23,360
Newport (Wales). 23,249
Maidstone 23016
Peterborough 22,893
Hastings 22,383
Huddersfield 22,163
Shrewsbury 22,163
Canterbury 21,224
LinooUi 20,999
• ••
78
. •.
655
. . .
402
. . .
129
. • a
406
• ••
43
• ••
414
...
360
• ••
170
...
253
• ••
473
. • •
189
• ••
11
• ••
836
. *•
65
■ ••
134
• ••
154
• ••
311
• ••
63
■ ••
150
...
347
...
36
■ ••
25
...
54
• .•
317
...
196
...
47
...
67
7,534,857 69,146
ArrMlafiMT
drunk«nn«M Vumbmc
PopuUtloB and to
ISOL drunken pomiU-
diM>rd«r. tton.
In police dis-
txicts as
above 7.634,867 ... 69,146 ... 1 to 109
lorestofBnff-
land and
Wales 13,631,867 ... 42,819 ... 1 to 296
All Bnffland
and Wales. 20,066^24 ...111,465 ... 1 to 180
The disproportions between popula-
tion and apprehensions in the foregoing
list are remarkable, and cannot lul be
refered to a difibrence in the preyalence
of intemperance. It is probable that in
many cases disorderly conduct con-
nected with drunkenness has been
classed among common assaults. Some
towns of less than 10,000 inhabitants in
1861 are returned as haying more
poUce-cluurged drunkards among them
than towns with seyen times their popu-
lation. That they are seyen times as
drunken as the others is out of the
question.
In the year ending September 29,
1868, 12,197 publicans and beersellers
were proceeded against for yiolations of
the express conditions under which
they carry on their trade. In this
282
Notices of Books.
number of law-breakera it appears
that there were 8,222 beersellers repre-
sented, and 3,975 publicans. The same
persons were, in not a few cases, pro-
ceeded against more than once ; but, as
many more escaped legal process alto-
gether, it maj be assumed that at least
that number of individuals were charged
with offences, the proof of which ought
to haye disqualified them for a renewal
of the confidence reposed in them when
their licences were first granted. But
it is matter of universal notoriety, that
the forfeiture of a public-house or beer-
shop licence rarely occurs. How the
magisterial jurisdiction over beersellers
conferred by the new Act will be exer-
cised has yet to be fully tested.
NOTICES OF BOOKS.
The Scottish Poor Law^ and some Con-
trasts between the Principles and the
Practices thai have grown upon it.
Bead 2m May, 1869, by D. Curror,
late Chairman ojf Edinburgh Parochial
Board. Edinburgh : Seton and Mac-
kenzie.
Mb. Curkob is an earnest poor-law
reformer, and brings to bear on the
subject extensive practical knowledge
and much good sense. He distinguishes
between three classes of poor. He sets
on one sid^ the voluntarily idle able-
bodied, as deserving, not food, but
rather branding and stripes. He would
show them no mercy. Let them starve !
He places quite apart from them the
'honest impotent poor,' for whom
really efficient provision must be made
out of the poor-rate ; and the enfeebled
poor, who are able to work a little, and
for whom suitable work should be found.
He declares that not only, as at present,
lands and heritages, but, as formerly,
the means and sul^tance of all the
parish, should be assessed to the rate.
' Lands and heritages do not represent
more than half of the material wealth
of Scotland. That half at present dis-
chargee a whole national burden, and
the other half goes free. That is not
right. Take an example of the class.
An ostensible proprietor of JB10,000
worth of land has it burdened with a
bond and disposition for ^8,000. The
return from land is not very great. The
nominal proprietor, happen what may,
must meet the interest, taxes, and rates
applicable to the JC10,000 value. But
all the risks of income attach to tibe last
£2,000 of heritable worth. He runs
these risks, and lives upon very short
commons indeed. But out of that bare
living, — an appearance to keep up with-
out the means, — probably * remember-
ing days of joy when misery is at hand.
he pays all the poor-rates ; and the real
owner of the land — ^the bondholder —
pays ne'er a rap to maintain the poor.
Incomes from manufactures, from stocks
and shares, are all free. A millionaire
of Moray Place jSays only on his hcfuse,
and his thousands invested otherwise
than on land and heritages pay nothing;.
3?he poorest householder pays on his
rent, and his sticks may be rouped at
the cross failing payment, and he and
his may be driven to the poorhoose
for shelter, while the thousands of our
West-End friends pay nothing. The
inequality is glaring.'
For the impotent deserving poor Mr.
Curror would provide by reverting to
the old law of settlement, to the extent
of making the expense of him fall on
his native parish, thoueh not necessarily
compelling him to live there. On
becoming chargeable he may choose hia
place of residence once for all ; but his
native place must pay for his keep.
Mr. Curror thinks the Begistration Act
has removed the difficulty of fixing the
birth-settlement that led to that settle*
ment's abolition. This plan would, he
says, operate an equalisation of poor*
rates, abolish the existing inequalities
of pauper pressure on particular locali-
ties, and make the poor-rate, as near as
may be, a national burden equally im-
posed in extinction of a national obli-
gation, besides conferring other benefits.
The impotent poor he would place in
hospital where they can be cared for
witn affectionate Christian earnestness.
He would send them to the 'sunniest of
the sunny poorhouses of the county,
under the care of appropriate nurses.'
The poor able to work a little he would
send into the poorhouses happening
to stand most convenient, *with the
most fitting facilities for enabling them
to carry out their mission under appro-
Notices of Boohs.
28S
priate ChrifltiAn masters.* The poor,
able but not willing, are to be made to
work under pain of starration. ' Send
them to the house with the greatest
iacilities for enabling the parish to carry
into effective operation its correctire
discipline under appropriate regimen
and taskmasters.' At present, 'there
can be no proper or perfect classifica-
tion in anj one house, as no house
admits of that perfect separation of
" languages — ban^ tongues — Toioet
deep and hoarse** — of the mipotent — of
the weak — and of the sturdy, that is
necessary for the appropriate manage-
ment and emplojrment of each. £ut
by giving each class a separate house,
and classifying that class, a perfect
classification could be made and main-
tained under proper heads. As all the
parishes alike would participate in these
benefits, let a common account be kept
of cost, and divided among the parishes
according to the number of paupers in
each.' Mr. Curror adds: — * I can see
no objection to such a re-arrangement
of existing parochial machinery as this.
Even although the parishes kept an
account of each man's earning, ana gave
him the surplus over the cost of food
and dothing, I could see no objection.
But, on the contrary, I could see in
that great sain to the pansh and great
benefit to the worker. Let a man work,
and give him the return. If industrious
and well-behaved, let him work his way
out of the worst class into a better.
Indeed, let him work himself out of the
poorhouse alto^ther, with a trade
learned, industrial habits, and a purse
in his pocket, to start in the world
when he gets out. Infuse into the
system sympathy for the impotent, hopes
of gain of means and respectability to
the worker, with fears of being sent to a
worse class and harder fare for the dis-
obedient and idle. Let none be dis-
ckareed without a certificate of merit
for the outer world ; and you will lop
off this corrupt graft, make the poor-
house of the present day the hospital
and correction-house of the old Act,
and bring the treatment of the poor
back to Christian injunction.
* I am aware of the objection to re-
verting to the old Law — that it would
send workhouse labour to compete in
the market to the prejudice of the legi-
timate small trader. But the argument
is overstrained. If, by means of this
re-organisation, the poor are made to
eatthdirown bread, sorely that is no
inconsiderable gain to the small trader.
But it is not necessary to bring poor-
house labour into competition with the
ordinary trader at alL The pauper
able to work a little would find himself
fully occupied with the work required
for the inmates of the poorhouse and
the officials. The able to work could
be employed in remunerative labour not
vet in the market. Let 6k>vemment
lay out designs for draining, on proper
engineering principles, the bogs and
lakes, moors and mosses many of th&
country ; and for reclaiming land from
the sea and in similar works of a public
nature, and thus extend the arable area
of, the nation, bringing food to the
people, and employ the poor able to
worx in carrying out such improve-
mente; and paupers, while learning
industry, would benefit the nation, earn
their own bread, and take the bread out
of the mouth of no one.*
We have briefly indicated the course
taken by Mr. Curror. The recommenda-
tions advanced in his pamphlet are not
eidiausted by our notice of them thus far,
but the necessitieB of space forbid us to
go farther.
2%e Cure of Satda OTid Atr&phy of
Brains, Dartmouth: Cranford.
We do not admire the tone and spirit
of this pamphlet, one chief object of
which is to expose what is callea ' the
odious position of the beneficed clergy
in England, consuming as they do a
portion of ^e national income in ease
and luxury, which would suffice, and
more than suffice, to instruct the poor.*
The clergy are entitled to think in
many cases that they are instructing the
poor ; and the well-known hardships of
the curates, to say nothing of the self-
denying labours of clergymen of many
classes, rebuke this ins(3ent accusation.
Yet th^ writer is very clear-sighted in
some respects. Whilst protesting against
much that we find in nis pamphlet, we
cordiallv recognise the truth of his com-
plaint, that sufficient attention is notpaid
to the intellectual advancement of the
poor. He suggeste that the Government
should purdiase alladvowsons offered, on
receiving proof in each case that the
incumbent is sixty-five years of a^ or
upwards, or that he has held the living
not less than forty years, paying seven
years' purchsse on the ^ross annual
value. On the first ensuing vacancy.
284
Notices of Books,
all the glebe, titles, residence, &c., to be
sold, and the balance, after repaying the
purchase monej, interest, ana expenses,
capitalised, the interest to proTide a
suitable stipend for the minister, if the
cure is retained ; and the surplus to be
giren in aid of educational erants or
rates. He notes yer j truly, that manj
liyings or cures, owing to the preyalenoe
of dissent, dwindling population, and
other local circumstances, might and
ought to be suppressed at the earli-
est opportunity. Well-known abuses
abounding in connection with the Estab-
lishment supply him with too much
opportunity for his rough satiric horse-
play.
The Didnfedant Question : Seviem of a
Book by Dr, B, Angus SmUh, en-
titled IHeinfecianis and Disinfection,
Beprinted from the Sanitary Becord,
London: M'Corquodale and Co.,
Cardington-street
This is a rasping reyiew of Dr. Angus
Smith's book on Disinfectants and Dis-
infection. According to the Chemical
NewSf * no man liying is competent to
criticise Dr. Angus Smith on disinfec-
tion but Dr. Angus Smith himself;' and
of his book, thesameauthority asserts that
* almost eyery page contains eyidenoe of
exhaustiye laborious research, guided in
its course by the clearest judgment. We
seek in yain for some weak point to giye
as occasion to air our critical acumen.'
But, according to the reyiewer before us.
Dr. Smith's book has one weak point of
most glaring prominency and of most
serious moment. The charge against
Dr. Smith, in short, is that self-regard
has rendered him altogether a biassed
and unsafe euide ; — that being inyentor
of M'DougiOl's disinfecting powder, he
has suffered his judgment to be warped
most egregiously in fayour of that
article. *We are yery far from saying/
remarks the reyiewer, * that it was not
competent for the Cattle Fla^e Com-
mission, relying upon the special know-
ledge of their medical and chemical
members, to decide for themselyes the
question of the choice of disinfectants ;
but we will say and uphold that haying,
instead of so doing, publicly announced
that the subject required further inyesti-
gation, it was their duty, in selecting the
person to conduct the inquiry, to see that
the indiyidual chosen was not only fully
competent, but in no way biassed by
haying been mixed up with the riyalries
of inyentors and manufacturers. And we
will further boldly assert that in the
entire ranse of British scientific chemists
they could not haye singled out one
more disqualified on the latter grounds
than Dr. Angus Smith. That gentle-
man, howeyer, haying once been ap-
pointed and haying thought himself
lustifled in accepting the trust, could
hardly, without belyins his whole past
career, do otherwise wan recommend
his own inyention. But he ouffht to
haye done so in a straightforwara and
high-handed manner, and not conde-
scended to make a pretence of being
guided by fresh inyesUgations, which, in
reality, as the reports of the Commission
show, had no influence on his oondoot
nor on their proceedings. It was still less
worthy of the Commission, after haying
allowed themselyes priyateljr to ffiye in
their adhesion to aisinfection bjr Dr.
Smith's inyention, to shuffle off their re-
sponsibility by permitting the empty
forms of futile inyestigation to be gone
through.' This is the grayamen of the
charge brought by the reyiewer against
Dr. Angus Smith and the Cattle Flagoe
Commission. It is supported by some
yery teUing pleading, and a strong primd
facie case is set up which demands a
reply from the defendant The pam-
phlet, we may add in conclusion, ap-
pears to be written in the combined
interest of truth and Condy's floid.
SHans of the Times : An Address delivered
oy T. M, Morris, of Ipswich, at the
Annual Meeting of the Sujfblk €md
Norfolk Baptist Home Missionary
Union^ held at Bury St. Edmunds.
Published by request. London: E.
Stock, G2, Paternoster Bow.
Thb 'si^ of the times,' to which Mr.
Morris <£rew the attention of his hearers,
were, first, 'impending and possible
changes in the politick ecclesiastical
arrangements of this country;' and
second, * the drift of religious thought
and sentiment towards Bitualism on the
one hand, and nationalism on the other.'
The Established Church of England
and Ireland, he predicts, will ere long
share the fate of the Irish one. An era
of free churches is before us. The pro-
bable coalescence of sundry ' eyangehcal'
denominations with the ' eyangelical '
portion of the free church of England,
leads Mr. Morris to apprehend that the
Baptists may be callea upon for a time
to * suffer from a keener sense of social
Notices of Bodka.
285
inferiority as a deDomination ' than that
which thej now laboar under. Still, in
the event of sach ooalesoence, he opines
there would be a greater call than ever
for the faithful maintenance of distinc-
tiyely Baptist principles. The ultimate
issue of disestablishment and disendow-
ment wiU, howeyer, * more than answer
to ; our brightest expectations.' As
regards Bitiuilism, he thinks the Bap-
tists occupy a rantage ground shared by
no other aenomination ; being free from
the practise of poedo-baptism, which
he describes to be an unintentional
bolstering up of Bitualism. Lastly, he
exhorts his hearers to confront with
unshrinking zeal the adranoes of nation-
alism.
An Inquiry into the Causes of the Present
Long-edniinued Depression in the
CoUon Trade ; with Suggestions for
its Improvement. By a Cotton Ma-
nufacturer. Manchester : John Hey-
wood.
The author of this very yaluable pam-
phlet is Mr. William Hoyle, a well-
known manufacturer of Bury, who, being
extensirely engaged in the cotton trade,
has of course had his attention yery
much dra?ni to the present sorely de-
pressed condition of trade and manufao-
tore in Lancashire and elsewhere ; and
has embodied in the pamphlet before us
the result of his meditations thereupon.
The conclusion he comes to, from the
facts and figures of the cases, is that the
fatal flaw in the state of the trade lies
not in the condition of the foreign, but
in that of the home market ; and that if
the home market were what it ou^ht
to be, the foreign would need to give
little or no anxiety to the manufacturer.
Mr. Hoyle's argument has been suc-
cinctly stated in the following letter to
the chairman of a meeting on the stagna-
tion of trade, held lately at the Clarence
Hotel, in Manchester: —
* 64, Mosley-street, Manchester, Sept.
14, 1869.
< Dear Sir, — I am glad to see that the
state of trade in this country is attract-
ing the attention of men of position and
influence.
* Without at all presuming to offer
any surmise as to what should be the
course of procedure at the meeting this
afternoon, I yet beg respectfully to call
the attention of gentlemen assembled to
what I belieye to be, and what many
other thoughtful men regard as, the
main cause of our present bad trader
and the one most inimical to the inter-
ests of the labouring classes.
*I can best expUin the matter b7
stating two or three facts. Li the year
I860 the home trade of this country
bought cotton goods to the yalue of
;erJ,129,000. In the year 1868 (last
year), although the price of cotton gooda
was from lU to 20 per cent, more than
in 1860, yet the home trade only took
cotton goods to the yalue of ^,911,000,
or about half the quantity taken in 1860.
* It may be said this was owing to
people being poorer ; but, if so, how are
we to explain the following facts ? In
the year 1860 the amount of money
spent in the United Kingdom on in-
toxicating drink was je69,9 10.544; in
the year 1868 the amount spent was
jei02,886,280, being in eight years an
increase of ;£d2,975,736 sterling, or
about 47 per cent To sum up, the
home trade bought 50 per cent less
cotton goods and 47 per cent moro
drink. K the 32 millions spent extra
in drink last year oyer 1860 had been
inyested in manufactured goods wo
should not haye had any stagnation in
trade, for it would haye clearod off all
stock, and found employment for nearly
half a million more persons than it did
by being spent in intoxicating liquors. If
three-fourths of the entire Jgl02,886,28a
had been laid out in manufactured goods,,
we should haye had a roaring trade.
* There are other causes of bad trade,
but this is the greatest of aU, and I hope
that, whateyer programme for the future
be laid out, gentlemen will not fail to
include in it some plan for checking the
enormous amount of intemperance and
consequent pauperism which now pre-
yail. — ^I remain, your obedient senrant,
• William HoYLE.'
The trade and the community at large
owe much to Mr. Hoyle for haying,
called attention to the real state of the
case. The pamphlet is, as we haye<
said, a yery yaluahle one, and its circu*
lation in large quantities is, on aJl ac-
counts, yery much to be desired.
Seed Scattered Broadcast : or Incidents-
in a Camp HospitaL By S. Mo. Beth.
With an Introduction, and edited by
the Author of * The Memorials of
Captain Hedleyyickers,'&c. Pp. 344.
London: William Hunt ana Co.,
Holies-street, Cayendish Square.
DcRiifQ the late oiril war in the United
286
Notices of BooJes.
StatMa large sUffof Tolonteer workers —
medical men. Christian ministers. Scrip-
ture readers, and women of all ranks, —
followed the Northern camp, sappljing
the temporal needs of the sick and
woundea of both armiea, and attending,
where possible, to their spiritual needs.
Amongst the women was the lady of
whose pen the Tolume before us is the
fruit; and in a series of articles, mainlj
in dialogue form, she here gives samples
of the sort of work done, with hints of
its efEecU upon soldiers of diiFerent
classes. Her ruling thought is that she
is a recruiting oflSoer for Christ's arm j ;
and her one work is to accost all and
sundry, in season and out of season,
when they like it and when they do
not, and to endeayour to impress upon
them the leading principles of her
tbeologic system, — not, however, for the
sake of the system, but in the hope of
inducing them, by its means, to enrol
themselves in the army of the Lord.
Grant the truth of her system, and the
justification of her action follows as a
matter of course. We doubt not there
are many Christians to whom the one
will appear to be deplorably narrow
and inadequate as a * ground-plan of
the All ;' but there will be few ^nuine
Christians, we think, who will not
recognise in the action she took and the
work she accomplished reason in abun-
dance boUi for heartily admiring her
earnestness and her tact in meeting
various forms of opposition, and for
rejoicing in the success she attained in
inducing thoughtless, apathetic, or hos-
tile minds to commence in earnest that
Christian warfare with sin, in the
absence of which life is but an unmean-
ing dream.
Many protests inevitably arise in the
critic's mind as be examines the volume.
A narrowness of system leads to great
injuidice. We have, to begin with, three
chapters, — ^labelled, first, the Infidel;
second, the Universalist ; third, the
Backslider. We hope it is abundantly
possible for many persons who, like
us, are not Universalists, to feel
acutely, as we do, the grave insult that
is here, though probably unconsciously,
done to a rapidly-increasing class of
Christians. Obriously, in every other
respect a man might be a true Christian,
answering even to S. McBeth's own
definition of one, and yet be a Univer-
salist Is it right to brand a brother
in Christ's army, because 'unaoond'
onl^ on the one point in which the moat
loving natures are the most liable to be
misled ? Yet here the Universaliat la
purposely transfixed on one akewer with
the Infidel and the Baokslider. It is
quite true the particular UnivorailiBt
here exhibited does not happen to
deserve much better treatment ; Dofc hd
might have done ; and the whole ol«i
to which he happened to belong ahoold
not have been thus abused or beinff
sandwiched between the Backslider and
the InfideL
This is only one sample of the kind
of protest aroused by a perusal of tiie
book before us. Enough that we only
just allude to the similarly pro-
voking character of many things in the
volume ; adding the remark, that the
triumphant progress of the argument ia
frequently oue, not at all to the aound-
new of the reasoning, but solely to the
inaptitude and inefficiency of the
opponent Amongst a more thoughtful
class of men, this good lady would have
met with a very different ending to
some of her controversial adventures.
But, making all due deductions for
faults like these, there remains a volnme
which, to a very larce class of minds,
will appear to be full of irrefutaUe
argument, produced with wonderful
skill and tact, and often accomplishing
results which all must agree to ue in the
highest degree saluta^. It is im-
possible to follow the course of her
labours, as shown in her book, without
high admiration of the benevolent and
conscientious courage, energy, and aeal
thus manifested, or without teeUng that
in her capacity of recruiting-serseantto
the army of the Ghreat Kinj;, uia was
fulfilling a function for which she was
singularly well gifted.
Hoards of Contort ftr Parent's Bentned
tf Little Children. Edited bv William
Logan, Author of the Moral Statistios
of Glasgow. With an Inrroduotorj
Historical Sketch. By the Bev. Wm.
Anderson, LL.D., of Glasgow.
London: James Nisbet and Co.,
Berners-street.
Wb do not wonder that another and
still another edition of this compila-
tion have so soon been demanded. A
collection of almost everything, whether
in prose or verse, that has ever been
well written in English, to comfort and
help parents bereaved of children, forma
a book to which the commonness of such
Notices of Books,
287
bereaTemeut gives a strong claim for
reception upon almost everj home.
The fourth edition, issued a few months
ago, has been distributed strictly at cost
price amongst more than 1,500 mis-
sionaries of all Protestant denomina-
tions— thanks to the combined liberality
of Mr. Logan and other friends of the
missionaries. A fifth and enlarged
edition is fast finding its waj, we doubt
not, into some thousands of English
and Scottish homes, there to be re-
ceived, as it deserves, with no cold
welcome. And a sixth edition is already
out. This last, however, is an abridg-
ment. It has been prepared in com-
pliance with a wish, expressed by many,
that the book should be published at a
pric3 making it more popularly acces-
sible. Care has been taken to preserve
whatever was essential to the original
purpose of the compilation ; and whilst
the collection thus remains substantially
the same as in the larger edition, a new
feature has been intr(^uoed by placing
in a separate section such of the prose
articles as did not specially refer to the
death of children, and several contri-
butions not in the previous editions are
to be found in this.
Missionary Theology: Considered in its
two doctrines of Endless Misery^ and a
Past Millennial Advent of Christ, By
Edward White, Minister of St Paul's
Chapel, Hawley Boad, Kentish Town.
London : Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster
Row.
This is a paper re-printed from
the * Bainbow,' and designed to make
good the thesis, ihat when at the dose of
last century, with simplioitv of purpose,
heroic faith, and devotea piet^, the
Baptist, Independent, and Episcopal
Missions were founded, there was
ecarcely a man among the whole com-
pany of persons engaged in these glo-
rious undertakings who ever dreamed
of doubting any of the doctrines
stamped with the imprimatur of the
sixteenth century Boformation; but
that, now, the theological spirit has
r3C0vered its energy in the churches, at-
tention has been devoted once more to
biblical criticism and doctrine, and
there is a certain separation between
the missions of Protestantism and the
deeper home convictions of religious
Englishmen. This separation is sup-
posed by the writer to oe caused chiefly
by a change in the popular Christian
belief as regards the eternal destination
of the heathen. That all the millions
who rejected the missionary's message,
or who never heard of it, are doomed
to endless misery, Ms what nu&y be
called the State creed of all the mis-
sionary societies. No one is considered
at liberty to deny it in a missionary
speech or sermon. It is the platform
creed of Exeter-hall. The missionary
students at the colleges are supposed to
believe it The directors are supposed
to believe it The missionaries abroad
are supposed to believe it. No one who
openly asserted it would be asked at a
missionary assembly or to plead the
cause of missions before the people.
And yet, it is disbelieved in the churches
throughout the length and breadth of
the country. It is doubted and denied
with varymg degrees of confidence.
But it is doubted and denied almost
universally, and most of all by persons
of accurate knowledge and spiritual
intelligence.' Another reason for the
decline of interest in missionary so-
cieties is to be found, Mr. White
thinks, in the f&ilure of spiritual results ;
and a third he finds in the refusal of
the missionaries to preach what he calls
the pre-millenial aavent of Christ
What I have Written, A Letter, Ex-
planatory and Defensive, to the Rev,
Henry Constable, M.A., Prebendary
of Cork, etc.. Regarding the Future of
the Human Race. By Henry Dunn.
London : Simpkin, fiCarshall, and Co.,
Stationers' Hall Court.
* What I have Written' is surely a
rather untowardly title, as tiling us
back to Pilate just after he had per-
mitted the crucifixion of the Lord, fiat
neither Mr. Dunn nor, we hope, any
one of his readers will be disposed to
desire that any association of ideas,
however slight, should be affirmed
betwixt the writer of this pamphlet and
Ponthis Pilate of old. If any should,
the most likely person to do so would
perhaps be the Bev. Henry Constable,
who, it seems, has assailed Mr. ])ann's
theological position as regards man's
destiny in the future worla wi& some
acrimony, and is replied to by Mr. Dunn
in the pamphlet before us. What Mr.
Dunn believes is, brieflv, that Soripture
does not teach the final impenitence of
any who have not wilfully and de-
liMrately rejected the truth calling
them to it ; and in this belief thousand^
288
NoUces of Boohs,
of minds, loving < mdgment and equity,'
will oerUinly be disposed to acquiesce.
But with this Mr. Dunn mingles other
inferences, wherein, to our thinking,
liffht is lareelj adulterated with shade.
]EU8 pamphlet is written in a thoroughly
Christian spirit, and is free, thermre,
from the wretched bitterness and petty
spite Ihat too often sully the pages of
disputants in theology.
Prohibitum Triumphant. A Short and
Popular Explanation of the Permissive
SillfOnd 8eventi/-fiveCh;ections against
it and ThetotoHsm Answered; Being a
i \Bq>hi to a Tract entitled * A Blow at
the uefenders of the Permissive BUl;
or, Tietotalers as a Class Weighed in
the Balance and found WanUna^ By
James Cavis. Blackburn: fiarton
and Hai^greaves.
The title so fully explains the purpose
of this pamphlet, as to make fuiiher
description unnecessary. Mr. Cavis
meets all the objections fairly and as
fally as was requisite, and leaves his
opponent no leg to stand on.
Aunt mmui^s TaU. By Miss Glaze-
brook. Authoress of ' The Lips that
Touch Liquor Shall Never Touch
Mine.' Bradford : William Draper.
A VXRT well told tale, having a * moral '
similar to the burden of the song
credited in the title page to Miss Glaze-
brook's authorship.
T%e Social and L^al Aspects of the
Domestic Service Question, Suggest-
ing a New System of Hiring Servants,
and an Amendment of the Laws
Affecting the Kelations of Employer
and Employed. A Social &sience
Paper. By M. A. B. London : L.
Booth, 307, Begent-street
7%e < Man of Sin ' Revealed in the Past
and Awaiting his Doom in the Future:
or, the 'Apottaeg* the Degenerate
Christian Church, and the Popes as
the Head of the Anti- Christian Sgttem,
the • Man of Sin,' An Argument : in
which the Objections of Romanist and
Protestant Writers to the Application
of Paul's Prophecy in 2 Thess, ii^ 1-12,
to the Papacy, are Examined. By the
Author of 'Short Arguments about
the Millennium.' London: Elliot
Stock, 62, Paternoster Row.
7\>picsfor Tsachers, A New Work for
Ministers, Sunday-school Ihaehers, and
others, on an entirely original plan*
By James Comper Gray, Halifax,,
author of < The Class and the Desk.'
Illustrated with over 200 Engraving»
and eight fint-class Maps. London:
Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster Row.
2%e Hive. A Storehouse of Material
for Working^Sunday-sehool Teachers.
London: Elliot Stock, 62, Pater-
noster Bow.
Old Jonathan, The District and Parish
Helper. London : W. and H. Colling-
ridge, 117 to 120, Aldersgate-street.
Hu lAfe-Boat; or. Journal of the
National Life-Boat Institution. Lon-
don : 14, John-street, Adelphi.
The Scattered Nation. Edited bv 0.
Schwartz, D.D. London : Elliot
Stock, 62, Paternoster Bow.
The Appeal. A Halfpenny * Magazine
for the People.' London: Elliot
Stock.
The Church, A Religious Penny Ma-
gazine. London: Elliot Stock.
Meliora
FIELD SPORTS.
1. The FoHnightly Review, October 1, 1869. Art. I. The
» / Morality of Field Sports. By E. A. Freeman.
2. Land and Water, November 6, 1869.
3. British Rural' Sports, By Stonebenge. Eigbtb Edition.
London :^F. Wame & Co. 1868.
i.'The Quarterly Review. Vol. 103. Art, VI. Sense of Pain
in Men and Animals.
5. History of European Morals. By W. E. Lecky, M.A.
2 Vols. . Longmans & Go. 1869.
€. Man and Nature, By G. P. Marsb. London : Simpson,
Son, & Co. 1864.
IT is impossible to discuss tbe relations of man to tbe animal
world witbout being driven back to primadval times. Oar
present relations are tbe result of diverse agencies, acting and
interacting, tbrougb long spaces of time. A settled life,
pastoral, agricultural, or urban; special legislation, bumani-
tarian or destructive ; and science, leisure, and etbical
cultivation, bave all bad tbeir effect in determining our
sympatbies and enmities, our bostility and domestication.
Tbe extinction of species, tbeir modification and redistribu-
tion, are mainly attributable to tbese various agents*, working
witb or against climatic influences. Man is tbe bead of a
series, and as be moves, settles, and progresses, animals,
plants, and vegetables are varied in tbeir orders, nourisbed,
cbanged, or destroyed. Tbis is part of bis 'dominion' as
^tbe paragon of animals,' tbe wielder of a godlike intel-
ligence. Tbe commencement of tbese subtle influences is
coeval witb tbe faintest tinge in tbe dawn of civilisation, and
Vol. \2.—No. 48. T
290 Field Sports.
cannot be traced distinctly in any nations save those wUch seem
destined to be absorbed or destroyed by otliers. In those dim,
far-off times we catch glimpses of a nnity which speedily perishea
to make way for a newer and gentler harmony, which will
reach its highest expression when man has attained his loftiest
elevation. The difference between the earlier and the later
series or harmony will be understood if we compare the
character of animal life in a wild and a settled country, say
Africa and England. In the one case the dominion of man is
uncertain ; in the other it is easy and assured. There is a
fierceness in the animal relations of undisturbed natural states
that finds no parallel in civilised lands. With the direct and
continuous intervention of man come a new order and a new
spirit. He has to make war on his own account, and his
warfare tends to soffcen the general animosities of animals,
even though he may avail himself of natural antago;iism iA
his warfare. When he begins to domesticate, he throws
the shield of his protection over beings unable to proteci^
themselves ; he lives by the chase, but he comes into direci
conflict with all animals of high organisation that do the same ;
^d as he withdraws his energy from iiie woods and the plaiii«
he assumes a still newer relation to tl^ animals that minister
to his wants, and a wholly different kind of hostility to those
that hinder his settled pursuits. He is first o£ all a hnntQi!
for subsistence, then for protection, and fiixaJly for pleasure or
sport. The element of sport is present in the two previous
stages, but subordinated to other endisi.
We should be slurring over this part of the question did ws^
not note the fact that with primitive man, so far as we can
trace his feelings in history, names, religions, and precepti|^
there was cherished a closer kinship with animals than tcit
frequently fails to show itself' with civiUsed races. To begin^
with the evidences of the Old Testament, scattered aiidi
fragmentary as they are, and diversely as they may hm
interpreted. It was Adam who first named the beasts o£ tshei
field iB^nd the fowls of the air; they shared the displeasnarO)
of God ; they were saved, in families, with NoiJi ; the?
firstborn of man and beast alike was sacred; it was noi
lawful to work either man or beast on the Sabbath ; it was
pronounced cruel to muzzle the ox when he trod out his
master's corn, to yoke together an ass and a heifer, to seethe'
a kid in its mother's milk, to take the nursing bird with her
Jroung or her eggs ; and the picture of the new kingdom of
ove and peace is drawn as one in which wolf and lamb,
leopard and kid, shall have forgotten their animosities, and tha-
calf, the young lion, and the little ckild shall dwell har«»
Field SpQrts. 291
q^pniqnsly together. In the Institutes of He;an ^e cletept
hints pf a similar recopfnised uniiy. iJhq slapgh^er of beasts,
except for sacrifice^ is forbi^c^en, kindness io apimals is
inculcated^ and agricultural pursuits are condemned with a
tenderness almost ii;icomprehensil)le to us^ ^fpr the iron-
mputhed pieces of wood not only wound the earth, but ite
creatures dwelling in it/ We have less dirept evidence of
this in the earliest form. of. poetic and mpral teaching. It is
tiiis community of nature between man, bruiie animals, aijid
plants, says Mr. G. P. Marsh, which ' serves to explain why
the apologue or fable, which ascribes the power of speech and
the faculty of reason to birds, quadrupeds, insects, flowers,
and trees, is one of the earliest forms oi literary composition/
It is pf Eastern origin, and it is worth inquiry whether the.
&ble proper, as just described, preceded or succeeded the.
myth, or was found less or more amongst the non-mytho-
logical races. Wje cannot £nd that the double probl^ijii 1^
attracted the attention of Professor Max Miiller, who uses thp.
word fable generically. There is a difference, however,
between the fable and the myth. The first owes its origin to
the fancy, and contains worldly wisdom ; the second springs
from the imagination, and deak with higher problems. The
one appeals to the understanding, the o^her to the pure reaso^.
One endows beings with speecf and reason, the other turuB
abstractions into persons, and natural chemistries into living*
thoughts. We are also able to catch this quick sympathy ia
liviug, savage races, as the North American Indians, Auslra-
lians, and others. Tribes are named afieranimals an4p^nts,and
the common belief is that each family has descended from t^pr
Totem, Kobong, or genius it worships.* The North Americait
Indian's Totem is familiarly known as piedicine, and it descend^
to all the children a man may have. Thus the Beaver, in 'Tj|iia
Last of the Mohicans,' refused to pass a colony of beavers
without addressing them, and called them his ' cousinsl^ ^^
George Grey says, ' There i^ a u^iysteriou^ cppnectipn hety^Q^jx
an Australian and his Kobong, be it anipial or vegetable. • •
The family belief is that soD;ie one individual of the specie^ is
their dearest friend, whoQX to kill would be a great cn^e/
William the Conqueror signalised his !^gUsh rule by ipa^pg
laws to protect the stag, the wild b^ar, ai^d' even fxare?.
Various personal and political motives are assigiied for fhese
* See a curioas collection of cTidenoe on these points in ' The \yor8hip of
Animals and Plants,* by J. F. McLennan, • Fortnightly BeViiw,' Art 17.,
October 1, 1869. Sir George Qrey sajs thb Australian^'OBe the'l?oteih as Hm
family crest or ensign, and expresses the opinion that ow her^ldip hcftfin^ j(r#
traces of the Totem itAge lingering mpifi^ii^diiat^^
2d2 Field 8p6rU.
laws, but a contemporary — Thomas Eudbomo— gires a moral
one : ' This king loved wild beasts as though he had been
their father.' We cannot pursue this subject any further, but
it was right to touch upon it in passing, as part of the ques-
tion ; and it may serve to show that all our boasted advancement
is but an idle tale if we indulge in cruelty to the beings who
fill up with man the kingdom of nature. We touch, indeed^
something far nobler than a dim pantheism when we can aaj
with Shelley's Alastor :
no bngbt bird, insect, or gentle beast
I consciously haye injured, but itiU loved
And cherished these my kindred.'
It should be evident, we think, from the foregoing considera-
tions, that we must vary the standard of man's duty towards
animals according to the nature of his habitat, his civilisation,
and his common ethical notions. We cannot expect the
savage to starve because the chase is inseparable from cruelty
of some kind, or the civilised being to remain at peace with
the objects which endanger his own life or the lives of his
flocks and herds. Cruelty to animals, therefore, has one
meaning in Africa and another in England, though it would
be as brutal for a white man to torture unnecessarily in one
country as the other. Where there are natural wilds and
woods, animals of all kinds abound, and may be kiUed in
virtue of man^s God-given dominion. As much pain may bo
inflicted, but it is justified by larger ends. The personal
gratification of the slayer is only part of the question ; the
quiet pasturage or settled cultivation, or secure home life, or
adequate food and physical comfort, are elements that
come in and lift the act out of the range of ordinary
cruelty or wantonness. Sport may be had, but it diflFers
in kind from those home field sports which are arti-
ficial, kept up at great expense, the pleasures of a
caste, or inseparable from torture. 'As we refine,' says
Emerson, 'our checks become finer.' Our sport reflects
our ethics. When a robust, warlike spirit is common, all
amusements are cruel; captives are tortured; life is less
sacred; humanity is fortified by valour, not chastened by
tenderness. The sports of the amphitheatre, the bull ring,
the bear garden, the cockpit, and the chase, will abound.
When civilisation becomes luxurious and corrupt, cruelty
accompanies the degradation, and 'the choicest luxury of
ail' will be 'the spectacle of death and torture.' When
Christianity is an innovation, there will be martyrs for the wild
beasts ; when it becomes the State, there will be fires for the
Field Sports. 29S
heretics ; and when it passes into newer and higher regions,
there will be communion with animals^ evidenced in the lives
of the Catholic saints, and a gentleness and consideration
common to an industrial civilisation. Public morals influence
private feeling. Cruelty to animals is the natural parent of
cruelty to human beings. Montaigne remarks that after the
Komans had become accustomed to the slaughter of beasts,
they began to take delight in the slaughter of gladiators.
Hogarth has pictured out this truth in his ' Four stages of
cruelty^ — the lad who begins by torturing cats and dogs
ending his career by a murder. But there are apparent
exceptions to this unquestionable truth, which may deserve to
be stated, though we reserve the explanation for the present.
We quote Mr. Lecky's convenient summary :—
' To the somewhat hackneyed anecdote of Domitian gratifying his laTBge pro-
pensities by killing flies, we might oppose Spinoza, one of the purest, most gwitl^
most beneyolent of mankind, of whom it is related that almost the only amusement
of his life was putting flies in spider's wisbs, and watching their struggles and
their deaths. It has been obserrea that a Tery large proportion of the men who,
during the French rerolution, proved themselTes most absolutely indifferent to
human Euffering, were deeply attached to animals. Foumier was devoted to a
squirrel, Couthon to a spaniel, Panis to two sold pheasants, Chaumette to an
aviary, Marat kept doves. Bacon has noticed that the Turks, who are a cruel
people, are nevertheless conspicuous for their kindness to animals, and he mention!
a Christian boy who was nearly stoned to death for gagging a long-billed fowL In
Egypt there are hospitals for superannuated cats, and tne most loathsome insects
are regarded with tenderness ; but human life is treated as if it were of no account^
. . . . On the other hand, travellers are unanimous in declaring that in Spain
an intense passion for the bull-fight is by no means incompatible with the most
active benevolence and the most amiable disposition. . . The very men who
looked down with delight when the sand of tne arena was reddened with human
blood, made the theatre ring with applause when Terence, in his famous line, pro-
claimed the universal brotherhood of man. . . Even in the amphitheatre tbero
were certain traces of a milder spirit. Drusus, the people complained, took too
Tisible a pleasure at the sight of blood; Caligula was too curious in watching
death ; Caracalla, when a boy, won enthusiastic plaudits by shedding tears at the
execution of criminals. Among the most popular spectacles at Rome was rope-
dancing, and then, as now, the cord being stretched at a great height above the
ground, the apparent, and indeed real, danger added an evil zest to the perform-
ance. In the reign of Marcus Aurelius an accident had occurred, and the
Empercr, with bis usual sensitive humanity, ordered that no rope-dancer should
perform without a net or mattress being spread out below. It is singularly
curious that this precaution, which no Christian nation has adopted, continued^ in
force during at least two hundred years of the worst period of the Boman empire»
when the blood of captives was poured out like water in the Colosseum. The
standard of humanity was low, but the sentiment was stiU manifest^ though its
displays were capricious and inconsistent.'
We may advance one or two other illustrations of this vary-
ing moral standard. The Neapolitans were not an extremely
elevated people, yet they never encouraged, and do not seem
to have enjoyed, the bull-fighting so common in Rome, the
Eomagna, and Spoleto. The Puritans suppressed bull and
cock iightingj not as Macaulay antithetically pats it^ speaking
2d4 FiMSparU.
t>f iihe former, ^because it give pain to tlie Indl, but beciiiuid
ii gare pleasnre io ihe spectators/ At the same timej tb^
craeDjr punisbed witcbes, and believed tbemselves to be doin^
God a service by tbeir inbnmamfcies. Sir Homas More wdfc
the reverse of cmel or bard-hearted, and yet he was ackms-
tOmed to boast of his skill in throwing the ' coclc-stele/ or
<30ck-stict. With the Restoration, bnll baitine, cock firfrtin]g,
«ad man fighting, T^hen, as Sir Bichard Steele remarks, fh^
combatants cnt ' collops of flesh' from each other with theSr
swords, were revived. Nor were they suppressed niitil. Ha
"Mr. Freeman notes, other movements had commenced 'for
the lessening of the hardness of onr criminal law, and fc^
the removal of the wroiigs of the slave, the piisoner, and the
Innatic/
It is now our duty to consider why and in what respect our
modem English field sports deserve to be condemned, and to
reconcile the fact of their continuance with our growing
humanity, as shown in special legislation in favour of domestic
smmals. The first part to be noted is that they are artificial,
with the solitary exception df hunting the wild red deer and
anffling. We preserve in order to kill, and the enjoyment of
A inass, and not the feeding of the people, is the main end
kept in view. Even vermin, like the fox, would soon be
exterminated but for two things ; the constwt importation of
them from France and Scotland, and the care tsJcen to pre-
serve them in the coverts and to brand as vulpicide any inde-
pendent action of a tenant farmer. The artificiality of fox
and stag hunting is seen in the preparatory training neceBSsry
to make a hunt worth anything. The young foxhound his
to have his ears cropped to prevent them catching in the
thorns, the dew-claws have frequently to be removed, and a
small portion of the tail has to be cut off. To treat cats so
would be cruel ; to treat hounds so is scientific preparation
for presumed scientific sport. ' Hounds,' says Stonehenge,
^ may be bought even at a month's notice, horses may be soon
got together, if a cheque is only written for their value (real
or supposed), but foxes must be bred, if sport is to be
obtained.' Cubs must be obtained in the summer, fed until
September or October, and then hunted ' in order to prepare
for fatare sport ' by preventing the foxes from getting too fiat,
and by 'blooding' the hounds. 'Without blood/ remarks
Stonehenge, ' even the pack in regular work soon becomes
slack, and the hounds hang back, instead of getting forward
with the true foxhound dash.' Annoyance increases the
flcent-giving properties of the fox, but it gets fainter and
during the run, which is not the case with the deer.
Field SparU. 896
TFhus ike ba^g^d fox can be best hunted by haTtiexfi, and ii^ k
sometimes neoessaiy^ in a Bportii^ sense^ to dis^poii^t tbp
foxhounds in order that they may be ' sayage/or want of blood/
(The italics are not ours.) Fox-hunting may thus rank as *«
science, inasmuch as foxes, hounds, horses, and men have to
be trained for the sport. If extermination were resolved
npon, the fox would soon be as extinct as the wolf or the wil^
boar. Their scarcity is even now a matter of complaint, and
we may quote as a singular specimen of the selfidineas this
sport induces—^ matter to be more fully considered farther
on — ^the opinion given in Land and Water of a Midland hunts-
man : 'Leicestershire aint what it used to be, and never wiUj
till you alter them game laws, and do away with them p'licemen
as gamdceepers. Why, they take up a fellow with a hare or. a
partridge, and — me, they let him shoot a fox under their
noses 1 Make hares vermin, and foxes game, that's my notion/
And a very strange one, too, we may ren^ark, since it wou^
justify any outrageous laws for mere sport's sake. There ip
similar training in hunting the carted deer. A number <;^
them are turned into a high-fenced paddock, and 'they ^i^
daily driven round at a moderate pace by men on horsebao^j
or: muzzled hounds, or sometimes by hounds trained like she^-
ooUies, to bark without biting. Without this training they
would be wholly unable to stand ten minutes before tib^
hound, bat would be blown at once, because they are highly fed
in order to get them into good condition, and would becosiD
internally &t if this food was allowed to be converted into th^
material so unsuited to produce good wind/ No special
training of this kind is necessary with the hare, but this
'Snimal is often trapped in order to give to the sport of hunting
a foxy form, the trapped hare from its ignorance of a loccdity
running stiu^ht instead of circular. In falconry, heroniies
have to be kept up or the sport is poor, commoner birds beijp^
imcertain and rather despised. A list of a score or more
heronries existing^ in this country is given by Stonehenge, bat
he notes that the attempt to revive this old-&8hioned spoft
in modem times by the use of pigeons for herons has failed*
In training the hawk, the bird is hooded in order * tl|at
' temporary blindness ' may tame his spirit. Most of our fipld
sports here referred to are, as Professor Bain say^, 'the
imitation by human beings of the exciting circUfmstancea of
the life of the wild beast/* To lead the life of a dog, Mr. G*.
H. Lewis reminds us in his exposition of cyniciam, is ' not the
Tocation of man.' We may add that to imitate the wild beast
ft • The Smoiioni flad the Will,' p. 189. London : Parker and Son. . 1859.
296 Field 8porU.
is not the highest rocation of a gentleman. Just see^ for s
moment, how we act. We transform a predatory instinct inta
an artificial pleasure, and call it a noble sport. Plato approved
of houtiog quadrupeds because it developed ' godlike bravery/
ending in ' the victory of a soul fond of labour '/ but what
bravery is there in fox hunting, stag hunting, or hare hunting?
The hounds kill, except in the case of the stag, which is
generally stuck after being partially worried, and the bravery
is limited to taking fences, enduring hard labour, and risking
a broken neck to merit a chronicle in the newspaper.
But artificiality alone would not condemn a sport. Cricket is
artificial, golf is artificial, croquet is artificial, but none of
them are cruel. They do not inflict suflFering upon animals, but
field sports do. We prefer to quote Stonehenge on this point
because he is a sportsman, and writes for sportsmen. He is
describing the fixing of fish on the hook as live bait, and declines
to proceed to details of some methods which are ' abominably
cruel.' He then goes on : — ' A II field sports are too much mixed
up with an under current of cruelty ; but, where there is a choice,
no man of any ordinary feeling will hesitate in selecting the
least severe modes of taking game.' But men do not make
the choice. They hunt the fox because he is not game, but
vermin, when they might rid the country of the race sJtogethep,
to the benefit of the community ; and they hunt the hare and
the stag, which are game, when they might be content with
shooting the first and stalking the second. We are aware, of
course, that we start a diflScult discussion when we come to
the question of the sense of pain in animals. The animal is
indeed, as M. Michelet says, a ' dark mystery I an immense
world of musings and dumb sorrows.' But we have some
clue in the known qualities of nervous matter, whether found
in men or animals, and the action of sensations on the brain.
Animals with complex nervous systems have senses as keen as
man, though not so long sustained or enveloped by moral
feeling. They have understanding, but not reason ; they have
memory, but little imagination ; they have natural antipathieSj
and endless fears. ^ We have no proof, rigorously speaking,
that any animal feels,' says Mr. G. H. Lewes ; ' none that any
human beiog feels ; we conclude that men feel, from certain
external manifestations, which resemble our own, under feel-
ing; and we conclude that animals feel on similar grounds.' *
Though, therefore, it is not true to say the meanest insect
' feels a pang as great as when a giant dies,' it is erroneous to
put down similar manifestations of pain in animals to quite
^— ^^^ -I
* * Fhjaiologj of Coxzunon Life^' toL ii. p. 327. Blackwood. 18d9.
Field Sports. 297
another canse than that which is known to exist in man. In
nndisturbed natural states, animals do not seem to fear man as
greatly as in those conditions under which man is constantly
asserting his supremacy or his hostility. When the fox flies
before the hounds, it knows it is flying for life, and flight
developes all its cunning and ferocity. Its cry, or yelp, as
Burely indicates terror and anguish as the cry of a beaten
hound. The full-grown fox cannot be tamed, and soon sickens
and dies in confinement. It purrs or murmurs when pleased,
and is a shy, cautious, preserved animal. The apologist for
field sports in Land and Water remarks that, 'in a life
of constant apprehension like • that of the fox or hare^
fear can hardly assume that agonising form it does in
man, and perhaps in domestic animals, or life would bo
Buch an intolerable burden that they would have no appe-
tite for their food or leisure to continue their species.' We
grant the first assertion here, but deny the two inferences. If
the fox or the hare were hunted all the year round, fear would
have full play ; but such is not the case. They enjoy a respite
during the breeding season, and speedily forget past troubles.
But they may feel present pain quite as acutely for all that.
They may ' enjoy life ' during the season of rest, but it is
foolish to argue that 'such enjoyment may be set ofiT against the
BuflFering.' Were neither foxes nor hares hunted, what life they
Lad until they were killed would be enjoyment, and death
would be speedy. We add to the death by preceding cruelty.
Perhaps the hare suffers more than the fox. It is shyer
altogether, more sensitive, and less ferocious. It is silent
during pursuit, but its occasional doubles, pausings, and acute
listening, all betoken alarm and pain, though the latter is for
the present passive. ' The kill is generally with harriers, the
most painful part of the business,' observes Stonehenge,
' because, in the first place, the cries of the hare are often
piteous and piercing in the extreme, resembling those of a child
in agony ; and the hounds not being always allowed to have
her, the whip is obliged to be used at a time when they least
deserve it.' It is unnecessary to add a word to this fatal
admission; but we may just note that the same writer calls
attention to the fact that fox hunting is becoming in some
districts ' less popular than hare hunting,' owing to low rents,
hard times, increase of railways, and arable land, though for
his part he cares not which sport 'is triumphant, but one or
the other ought certainly to be encouraged for the sake of that
country's welfare.' The chase and death of the stag is no
exception to any of these conclusions respecting the fox and
the hare. He is a nobler animal, and fights with his pursuers
SM fi&U SfOfiBm
wfaen SagBj bronglit to hsf. In a late ttticle tm iha
maiqeei of stw hanting in ihe 'QoBrteify Berieir/ ite
were oAlmlj toTd^ says Mr. E. A. Freeman, the Idstorini,
whose i^ele in the 'Fortnightly' will do immffiisfl good,
coming, as it does, from a oonntry magistrate^ 'in
language which savoored a little of the alangfater-hoiniD
how the hoands were at certain times allowed to ''go
into'' a hind — that is, I suppose, to tear them in pieces, in
order to " blood" them. A man who set his dogs to tear a
sheep in pieces would at once find his way before the magis-
trate, and few people would pity him if Ins sentence were stt
serere as the law allows. This subtle distinction between ons
mminant and another is beyond me.' We do not hold ii
right to inroke the aid of poetic description in discnssing m
question of this kind, but there is so much tmth in die foflb
l>uko's description of the sorrows of a chased stag, in ' Aft
You Like It,' that we give a few lines, by way of a pendntl^
to what we have already written : —
' Tbe wretched animal heaT'd forth muh gfoizis
That their diaeluffge did stretch his leathern ooat
Almoft to barstio^ ; and the hi^ round tears
Conned one another down his innocent noee
In piteoos chase ; and thus the hairy fool
Ifoeh marked of the melaDdioly Jaquea
Stood on the eztremest vrgb of the awiffc brook,
Augmenting it with tears.'
A tiliird ground upon which we contend that hunting is IjW-
cally and morally indefensible is, that it does not materiaDjr
differ in character, but only in degree, from the sports alreaO^f
condemned and deemed brutal by every one pretending.-to
the designation of gentleman. Bidl baiting was sport. Tlia
bull was tied to a stake, the hounds were set upon him^ and
the spectators sat in boxes looking on. It was ' a yery mde
and nasty pleasure,' says Pepys. Windham, the patnm of
'sport' and defender of bull baiting said, 'No one idto
condemns bull baiting can consistently defend fox hunting ; '
and Mr. Freeman makes that the text of his able and instroc-
tire essay. ' Strip fox hunting of its disguises, and its
principle is, as Windham allowed, exactly the same as the
principle of bull baiting. To be sure the bull is tied to a
stake, while the fox is allowed to run for his life, and has a
chance of escape. This, no doubt, makes the cruelty same*
what less revoltiug, but it does not make it cease to be cruelty.
The spectators at a bull bait simply sit or stand and look on,
while the fox hunter is an actor, he follows his victim on
horseback, and enjoys healthful air and exercise in so doing.
This ia one of the disguises with which the cruelty is maaked, a
Fi&ld Bptyrt^. 209
di%tdse wUoh no donbt leadft taany to join in a fdk hxaA wlio
would not join in a bull bait^ but Whioli is shnpty a disgnisej
and wlucb leaves the essential cruelty elactlj Whefe it was.
A bull bait can be condemned only on the grotind that Our
amusement ought not to take the form of inflicting wantoti
fiufferiug ot, any creature. And on that principle a fox hoa^t
mtst be condemned also/ Bear baiting did not materially
difibr from bull baitings only that it was considered a mora
royal spoti;. Queen Elizabeth wias fond of it^ and Sir Walter
Scott; in his Kenilworth, represents the Duke of Sussex aa
petitioning her against Shakespeare because his plays dis-
tracted the people from bear baiting. In James tne First^ft
favoilrite sporty cock 'fighting, two animals of the same specie»
Wdre fed for the purpose^ and armed with steel spurs in order
to make the wounds they inflicted on each others' heads more
fatal. In huntings we train and ' blood ' hounds tO'|ft*ey upon
animals of a diflbrent species, finding in their lintagonism the
ground of our enjoyment. Btit if we set a dog to worry h cafe
We are at once accused of inhumanity, and punished accord-
ingly. The cat, like the stag, can defend itself, but the fox
and the hare are comparativdly helpless. In hunting thb
Carted deer, however, we have Stonehenge's authority ibr
saying that the animal is ' some time before deprived of rfaia
boms.' He is thus 'deprived of his defence, imd his life is
spared that he may be hunted again, until he becomes '^80
used to the gallop as to show little fear of the hounds/ We
are not aware that it has ever been contended there w^ fan
essential difference between condemned sports and those nowiii
rogue. The apologist in Land and Water simply says that of dU
ground of argument the one by analogy is the ' most fallacious/
immediately passing to the remarks about a life of constant
apprehension, already noticed. But he runs with the hara
and holds with the hounds. He argues that constant appre-
hension diminishes pain, and then goes on to state th^t tho
fox has his seasons of enjoyment; so had the cock and th^
bull, enjoyment in all Cases being intermediate repose iaad
natural life. If we inflicted periodical sufiering on a human being
it would be absurd to plead in mitigation the enjoyment
be felt between, and it is precisely so here. Pain is i pain,
whether it be constant or intermittent, and the vice 6f
bunting is that the length of the run, or the prolongation
of the animal's sufierings, is the measure of the amount of
' sport.' The cat would seem to be the only animal, or the
home representative of a large fol-eign species, which wantonijr
prolongs the pains of its victims. As an old warrener once
remarked to ns, it kills for 'mere sport' when htiiiger>ii
800 FieU Sports.
satisfied. "We have written 'tte only animal / we forgot the
'paragon of animals — in action how like an angel! in appro-
hension how like a God V
There is the selfishness of a caste about hunting. Every-
thing must bend to the sportsman. Pheasants must be
disturbed in their coverts, and whoever dislikes to have his
land hunted over, his fences broken, his fowls carried oflF by
the fox, or dares to shoot the vermin that aflfords sport to
others, is deemed a churl, a brute, a vulpicide. Fox hunting
is costly. Stonehenge calculates that a pack of hounds for
hunting three days a week will cost £845 per annum ; for five
or six days, £1,530; and that the annual outlay in the sport
is, for all existing establishments and frequenters of the
meets, £600,000 — a pretty sum, our readers will think, for
hunting vermin. Take its efiect upon the persons engajged
in it. Supposing that cruelty, because it is so disguised
and fenced about, does not harden the heart, we must
Bee the force of Mr. Freeman's remark, that though every
fox hunter may not be a bad man, yet, ' cceteris paribus, the
fox hunter would be a better man if he were not a fox hunter.
A mere fox hunter, a mere bull baiter, a mere amateur of
gladiators, can never have been an estimable character in any
age.' And yet how many of our country gentlemen grow so
absorbed in the pursuit that it seems to ' become like a reli-
gion or a political party — a sacred thing, to which all other
persons and things must give way, and any interfering with
which, by word or deed, is worse than murder or sacrilege/
Consider its ethico-legal aspect. Cruelty to animals is punish-
able by the laws of the land. In country districts the
administrator of law may be a fox, hare, or stag hunter. He
fines urchins and grown men who play at his sport with dogs
and cats, and the men may be driven into making com-
parisons if the youths do not. Mr. Freeman tells a story in
which a father urged this plea in defence of his son. But the
bench did not answer : it is in their power to command silence
and be silent themselves. Hence the grumbling about one
law for the rich and another for the poor, and the difficulty of
making strong moral impressions where the need for them is
not urgent. There is a Royal Society to prevent cruelty to
domestic animals, and nobly it does its work;* there are royal
* This society was founded in Juno, 1824, and in 1840, by command of Her
Majesty, was honoured with the prefix of * Royal.' It has done immense good
in three ways: First, by prosecution, in whicli it has enforced respect for theseTcral
laws to prevent cruelty to animals, as Martin's Act, the 12 and 13 Vict., portions of
24 and 25 Vict., haying reference to the killing or maiming cattle; the Contagiooi
Diaeases (Animals) Bill, which promises to luppren the traiffic in gltndered honet;
Field Sports. 801
licences to inflict cruelty to animals under the name of sport,
and the parallel of humanity in the one case is custom in the
other.
'An ounce of custom outweighs a ton of reason/ said
Hommol. It is certainly so in the case of field sports. We
disguise their cruelty, and fashion does the rest. Wo
look upon them as, perhaps, morally objectionable; but
when they are not sports in which we indulge, we do
not curiously inquire into them; and, when they are,
we catch certain words — 'noble,' 'glorious,' and the like-—
and they seem to drag our moral nature. It should not be so,
but it is, and for the simple reason that it is mentally and
morally easier to accept all the conditions under which we are
bom and live, than question them or rise superior to them.
Pressed by argument to justify anything already existing, the
apologist readily says, ' You must convince others as well as
me. The sport is practised — ^humane men do not condemn
it — the law sanctions it — what should we do without it? Why
cannot you let it alone ? Think of its effect on the breed of
horses — how much good the money spent on a hunting esta-
i'blishment does the country, and its healthful action on ladies
sand gentlemen ? ' But all these are mere hare doubles, and
^vade the straight line of defence. Are such sports cruel,
artificial, wasteful, ungentlemanly, and remnants of a barbarous
Bge and a low state of ethical feeling ? Eeason presses for
and for an Act of G^eo^ge III., 1784, regulating knackers* yards, &o. Second, by
procuring legislation, as, in 1835, the Amendment of Martin's Act; in 1839, the
insertion of a clause in tlie new Metropolitan Police Act, by which the cruel and
dangerous practice of using dogs to draw carts and other vehicles was prohibited
within fifteen miles of London ; in 1845, an amendment of the law relating to
inackers' yards ; in 1849, the improved Act for the Prevention of Cruelty cited
above; and in 1854, an Act prohibiting the use of dogs as beasts of draught or
burden throughout England, as well as an amplification of the term domestio
-aDimal, so as to include farm yard birds and swans. And third, by enlisting the
infmpathies of all persons in the noble work of gentleness and humanity throueh
the press and the pulpit, and recently by a monthly publication known as * Tn«
Animal World.' The society has obtained no less* than 14,506 convictions, and
jastly rejoices that the Doe Act of 1854 has obtained a bloodless victory, not a
solitary conviction having taken place under it. In Massachusetts a law has been
passed protecting alike domestic animals and fera natura ; but in England, as
If r. Colam, the secretary of the society, informs us, the law protects a tame rabbit
and pigeon without shielding a wild creature of the same species. Another
anomaly is worthy of notice. Hunting the otter resolves itself into a fight, if
hunting the fox does not; but it is lawful to worry an otter in a river, or on its
banks, when it would be unlawful to hunt or figlit it with a dog or dogs in ' any
place,' that is, house or pit, into which persons were admitted for money. No
animal, whether wild or domestic, can, by Act 12 or 13 Vic, seo. III., be legally
baited or fought in such enclosure. It follows that to set hounds upon a stag
would, in a small walled enclosure, say a town cricket or racing ground, be an
infringement of the law ; whereas it ceases to be so in a park, or wnara the hunters
sabsoribo for expenseB but do not pay for admiasioiu
302 Field SporU.
answer^ cnstom twits ns with hostility to the game laws^ and
with a desire to drive country gentlemen into the towns.
Custom hides cruelty. When Pepys saw some cock fightings
he did not think it ' a nasty pleasure ' like bull baiting. He was
struck by the lively interest taken by the common people in
the sporty and says of the fighting itself^ 'it was no greui
sport, but only to consider how these creatures, without isaxf
provocation, do fight and kill one another.' The cruelty ol
the thing and its brutalising effect, he does not seem to hava
noticed. Lord £[ames said the bear garden was held in
abhorrence by the French and other polite nations j bub a
writer in the Spectator refers to the same place as one to
which those 'who show nothing in the human species but
risibility ' may resort, and ' where reason and good mannecs
have no right to disturb them.' Babbit coursing is deem^
by most persons to be a vulgar sport, as opposed to othem
practised by gentlemen, it being the delight of mechanioi
and townspeople. But, in speaking of it, Stoneheng^e is
more logical than most gentlemen are. He says, 'it
may be open to the charge of cruelty, but so is every sport
depending upon the death of its victims for its existence.'
Mr. Lecky enlightens us on the moral effect of custom, botii
as reflecting a prevailing Btandai*d and as exonerating the
individual. A man who enjoyed a gladiatorial combat in
ancient Bome was less inhuman than an Englishman would
be who should tako pleasure in it now. The one conforms to
^ common standard, and the other falls below it. As indi-
viduals, Mr. Lecky says we have 'a much greater power
than is sometimes supposed of localising both our benevolent
and malevolent feelings.' We insensibly make distinctions
of time and place, and divide ourselves so that we may be
kind and gentle with one species and rude and brutal with
another without perceiving the contradiction. Aversions come
into play. We fondle a pet dog, but kick a cat out of the room.
We are as tender to canaries as Count Fosso, in the 'Woman
in White,' but, like him, we may be as cruel to hummii
beings. ' There are many,' said Mr. Lecky, with profonndl
truth, ' who would accede without reluctance to a barbaroti^
custom, but would be quite incapable of an equally barbarous
act which custom had not consecrated.' Thus our ethical
potions may be exalted, our customs low and grovelling. To
bring the two into harmony is the duty of the moral reformer^
and he must not and will not mind if he meets opprobrium in
80 doing.
A few words on shooting. The chief moral objection is e
love of slaughter, hidden under the name of sport. Several
JSield^ Sports. 803
kinds of game ooiild only, be procared for food in tiiiflway.
The death of the arn'mafe is painless^ and does not enter into
the question at all as it does in hunting. The main thing to
be considered is the sportsman. He enjoys the butchery with
less or more of pursuit. He is, as Mr. Freeman says, ' aa
amateur butcher^ a butcher who takes up the trade out of pure
love of slaughter. One can bardlgr fancy a man going out by
preference to kill his own sheep or lus own poultry ; wha6
oonceivable di&rence does it make if. the animds slaughtered
be deer or pheasant ? ' Morally none ; but special laws have
made slaughter of this kind the priFilege of a class^ and it is
tibns ranked as gentlemanly amusement without question or
ihougfat. Sir Walter Scott was not a mawkish sentimentalist^
but he once told Basil HjbU; in conversation that when he had
knocked down his black cock^ ' and going to pick him up^ ha
oaat back his dying eyes with a look of reproach/ he was quite
touched. 'I don^t affect to be more squeamish than my
suughbourSj but I am not ashamed to say that use never
reconciled me fully to the cruelty of the affair. I don't carry
this nicety, however, beyond my own person.' Modern battues
are pronounced by most thoughtful persons to be sickening
ftfiairs. Coverts are beaten, the game is driven to the sports-
man, attendants load and carry the game, and the sport
consists in knocking over the largest possible number.
Turnip shooting is similar to the battue m principle; the
birds having been forcibly driven to one place. Stonehengo
Bays this is 'more worthy of the butcher than the true
iportsman. It is, in fact, the same spirit which leads to the
use of the bagged fox or the trapped hare, though not
perhaps quite so bad as those unmitigated Cockney tricks.
It appears to my unlimited judgment that pigeon trap
ahootiug is quite as good sport as this turnip butchery, and it
may be had much more early and at less expense ; but, as
Colonel Hutchinson says, every Englishman must have
his prejudices, and whether this of mine is founded in
truth or not, it is scarcely for me to say.' We may,
however, congratulate the writer on having hit the truth.
Morally, we see no difference between the two, except
that it is said, though on doubtful authority, that the
pigeons are artificially blinded in one eye to produce a uni-
ibrm direction in their jBight. These pigeon matches are, in
truth, an abomination, and the condemnation pronounced
upon them by persons who do not equally condemn other
■ports, is but another illustration of the effect of custom,
though it leads us to hope that reasoning by analogy may
ultimately have ita eJSE^t. Until lately^ pigeon shooting has
304 Field Sports.
been deemed a low, vnlgar pleasure. The Pedl Mali GnxMe^
and other able organs^ constantly in the hands of edncated
persons, have commenced a brisk warfare against it, and ife
most soon cease to be a permissible sport for a refined, intelli-
gent nature.
There is hope for a new crusade against inhuman field aporti.
Mr. Freeman's example will have a healthful effect, and the
discussion he has had the courage to evoke must leave its
mark. Mr. Leckj, though less directly, is a warrior on the
same side, and Mr. Marsh has done something by a wonderfiil
book, not studied half so much as it deserves, to make us
familiar with natural harmonies, primitive and modem, the
order man disturbs, an{^ the new order he should create, in
which ferocity should be Vestrained, and he should truly make
himself lord of all, and not the copyist or the torturer. A
gentler humanity, far removed alike from pantheism and sen*
timentalism, is growing amongst us. We cannot longer
endure the taunt Mr. Henry Taylor has so admirably ex«
pressed —
' Pain, terror, mortal agonies, that aeare
The betrt in man to brutes thou wilt not spare.
Are theirs lei^s sad and real ? Pain in man
Bears the high minion of the flail and fan.
In brutes 'tis purelj piteous. God's command.
Submitting his mute creatures to our hand
For life and deatli, thou shalt not dare to plead ;
He bade thee kill them, not lor pport but need.'
The newspaper and periodical press is a great engine of
influence on the right side, much as class organs may
apologise, and must of necessity do so to exist, for sports
sanctioned by law or custom. The daily press does for the
public at large what gossip does for individuals — ^ it keeps
even the angels in their proprieties.' A new conquest of
nature dawns on us, as it does with every influx of light|
intellectual or moral. When Catholicism would express its
belief in a realised blessedness, it pictures its saints as recover-
ing the influence exercised by Adam in Eden. The kinship of
man and animals, indeed, owes much to these legends, for
they have caught a glimpse of the true ideal of his relation-
ship— the subjection of the animal, and therefore its permissible
death — the superiority of the man, and therefore his abstention
from torture. ' The beasts of the field and the fowls of the
air,' says St. Jerome, ^are included in the primordial covenant
of love — and whenever slaughter becomes sport, the sport
verges upon iujustice, and rushes from injustice to the worst
hardening of the heart/
( 805 )
MODERN TOWN CONVETANOES.
OUR forefatkers found this world a very bad one to move
about in. The fitabbom materiality of things was sadly
too mnch for their limited ingennity. Distance was a most
solid &ct to them; and the annihilation of time and space,
whether 'to make two lovers happy/ or for any other parpose,
was with them a mere fancy, having its only fitting place in
a joke. The art of setthi^ vehicles on wheels, though very
old, was indeed yet in its mfanoy. It has thriven well sinco
then, and now is possibly near its maturity. The still more
difficult art of setting wheels on roads, to which is anoillaiy
the great art of roadbnaking, was still less advanced when the
current century opened; what great advances have been made
in it since then we all know pretty well. The human race, in
this country at least, was a baby at roadmaking little more
than half a century ago ; it has cut its eye teeth since then, and
even its wisdom teeth are now on the road. Macadams-
illustrious name — ^has won for itself a renown second only to
the yet mightier name of Stephenson. Yet the Romans had
made excellent roads, some of which still remain as examples
of how a lasting, though not a cheap, pavement may be con-
structed; and in towns and cities the art of paving had not
died out, though its extension into the OTcat highroads of the
country was unpracticable because too dear, prior to the useful
invention of Macadam. The Romans were not the only good
roadmakers in old times. Prescott's ' Conquest of Peru '
presents a brilliant picture of the immense talent as road-
oonstmctors which the Incas displayed : — ' Over pathless
•sierras covered with snow, galleries were cut for leagues through
the living rocks ; rivers were crossed by means of bridges that
swung suspended in the air; precipices were scaled by stair-
ways hewn out of the native bed, and ravines of abysmal depth
filled by solid masonry.'
In the absence of vehicles deserving the name, and of roads
worthy of such vehicles, people in our own country prior
to the last century or so, could but, of course, stop at
home 'with might and main.' And they did so. Only
utmost necessity made the mass of them personally acquainted
with anything above a few miles distant from the villages or
towns they lived in ; and such utmost necessity happened only
to a few. There were legs in those days, of course, and most
people used them ; and to all the more purpose because they
were the only resource available to most people. The popular
Vol. 12.— JVb. 48. u
806 Modern Taven Conveyances.
' calf' was firmer and better developed tlian it is now in
towns^ where omnibuses and cabs have taken mncli of the
strain off the muscles of the lower extremities. In cases of
absolute need there were stage wagons and carriers' carts at
two statute miles per hour^ available for folk unpossessed of
horseflesh and private conveyances. For the gentry^ then
largely resident in towns^ there was that narrowest but easiest
of vehicles^ the sedan chair. Any one whose age entitles him
to remember the early years of the century, will be able ta
recall the frequent spectacle of two humble but useful men,
bearing at a light springy speed of three miles or so per
hour under favourable circumstances, the quaint band-box
with windows in which sat the gentleman in silk stockings and
buckled shoes and perhaps a queue, or the lady in whatever
happened to be the feminine costume of the period. ;$f!ttjii^t
down-time was the standing treat of the idle boys Bsa^ g^^ of
the streets; for then, the sedan chair having beepi. gently
lowered upon its base, and the chairmen having relinquished
their hold of the long poles they had been walking between,
one of them lifted up the roof of the chair like a box lid, and
opening one side of the vehicle, let out the highly respectable
personage who had been caged in the interior. In taking up,
again, this process was reversed ; then, all being ready, the
chairmen resumed their places between the shafts, one in front
and one behind, and, lifting the chair up gently, with measured
and equal steps gradually diminished till lost to sight in the
perspective, or suddenly vanished round the next comer.
Although it is some years since we saw him, we are not quite
satisfied that the sedan-chairman is even yet entirely extinct.
He may yet linger in or near the close of some small cathedral
city — ^like the specimen whom, only a few years back, we
detected at Hereford or Gloucester.
For the public at large, the first important advance upon
previous modes of locomotion was made by Macadam and the
coach — the flying coach, as its proprietary fondly entitled it,
on the strength of its wonderful speed of ten or possibly twelve
miles per hour. This appeared to the last generation but one
as the very ne plus ultra of locomotive improvement. At the
close of the sixteenth century York had been at a whole week's
distance from London. In 1 734 the Newcastle flying coach
consumed nine days in its journey to the metropolis — a longer
time than is absolutely requisite now for a voyage to America.
Before the coach, the only resources for the pubHc at large had
been the hired horse, or horse and gig, or for the wealthy the
post chaise, with its profuse expenditure for postilions, toll-
bars, innkeepers, ostlers, and horses, and for wheelwrights.
Modem Town Cwweyances. 307
too, rendered necessary by universally rutty roads. From
Penzance to Inverness tne coaching system became prevalent
and Great Britain was proud of it, for it set an example of
unexpected systematic fastness and punctuality. For post-
office purposes it made Britain the envy of the world. It is
true, couriers had been established from of old for kings
governments, and rich nobles ; and the horse mails had run as
&st as rough or quagmirey roads would let them ; but great
delays in postal transmission were inevitable. And for personal
transit, what were horses or postchaises to the public at large f
They were available, as nisi prius or chancery was available,
only for those who could afford such costly luxuries. The
coaches at length brought those middle-class denizens of diffe-
rent towns who were not owners of horseflesh, into possibility of
frequent acquaintance with each other. Now for the first time
tradesmen in numbers in the provinces made their regular
annual trip to the metropolis, or to the wholesale sources of
their trades. If they signed their wills before starting, that
was the more reasonable because of the stories of highwaymen
still rife by the blazing fires of safe hostelries. If they had to
sit all night through — and that probably a wet night, and whilst
yet Mackintosh had not been bom — and if nodding in weary
sleep they almost or quite fell off the wire-bordered knife-
board provided for their seat ; that was yet the best possible
state of things, and far superior to any previous circumstances
of long travel. We can still see in our mind^s eye the look
of vexed regret on the face of a poor commercial traveller
known to ourselves when we were a boy, in reciting, on his
return from town, how a brand-new beaver hat in the height of
fashion bought in London in days when silk plush was un-
known, and when hats were of real castor and cost from one
to two guineas each, had become ' lost to sight, to memory
dear,' at some vague and unconscious hour of the night whilst
the head wearing it on the coach- top must have been nodding.
From the years 1819 to 1836, or still later, rivalry between
coaching firms on several of the leading thoroughfares in the
kingdom had become a perfect mania. So far was it carried,
indeed, that proprietors sometimes ran themselves into the
Bankruptcy Courts whilst running coaches for the public.
This rivalry continued long after the year 1813, when Geordie
Stevenson's ponderous and slow locomotive was surprising and
amusiug a limited public in the North of England. Prior to
1828, on the Darlington railway, the first train that carried
passenger traffic by steam power had shown the way to the
enterprising men of Liverpool and Manchester, whom the
Duke of Bridgwater and Brindley had united by canal, but
308 Modem Toton Oonveya/nce$.
whose increasing cotton traffic demanded mncli more extensivs
and more rapid means of conTdTance tlian the shrewd Dnke
and his clever engineer conld give them. The Liyerpool and
Manchester line was not the first railway that carried passengers
by steam^ bnt it was the first to be bnilt with that object in
▼iew. Its success made it^ to the world at large^ the great
mother of all the passenger raflways ; the first of the lines that
have since stretched themselves aU over the solid earth where-
ever civilization has ventured to claim its settled right of way.
To the coaching worlds the railway project seemed at first to
be the height of ridiculous madness ; out by and bye it led
them to the depth of bankruptcy despair. A.t firstj it was said,
the iron horse could never make head against the flesh and
blood animal j but soon the cry was reversed^ and the almost
ntter extinction of horseflesh was apprehended. Both predic-
tions were mistakes. There were thirty-six coaches plying
daily between Manchester and Liverpool before the railway
was opened ; and the last of these was soon run quite off the
road through the superior speedy comfort^ safety, and economy
of railway travelling. In a few years the parallel iron lines
had become extended firom Manchester to all sides of the
kingdom, and, saving the canals, had largely superseded
almost all the other means of systematized and regular transit
for men and things. The great Hargreaves was only one of
the owners of well-appointed wagons carrying merdumdise to
all parts of the kingdom, who had to sell up their establish-
ments and leave the old hi£:hways to comparative solitude and
grass. Inns, posting-honies, ^d carrier' quarters, which
had abounded m all the leading roads in the country, became
deserted of custom, and ultimately closed. The ' Great North
Bead,' the names of whose hotels were at least as well known
to the public as were those of the signs of the zodiac, passed
by degrees out of the acquaintance and ceased to occupy the
mouths of travellers. A similar blight fell on the animation
and prosperity of all the great roads in the kingdom. Leaming
Lane in Yorkshire, for example, a portion of the great high-
way stretching from London to Inverness— once busy with
pedestrians, with carriers' wagons having belled leaders and
mounted drivers, with stage coaches, with gentlemen's
carriages and outriders, with travellers on horseback, and with
droves of cattle from the north accompanied by kilted and
plaided attendants, is now, as to those its quondam glories, a
hopeless thing of the past. The inns that Imed it have ceased
to ofier to entertain the traveller, and in many places the once
well-worn ground has covered itself undisturbed with nature's
soft green carpet.
Modem Town Conveyances. S09
So mnoh for tlie shortness of their foresifflit wlio liad pre-
dicted for the great coaching interest a lasting triumph oyer
thenew-fangledinvention of the engineer. Andnomore reliable
was the power of prophecy in those who afterwards with alarm^
saw^ as they thought^ the advent of a power fated to redoce to an
almost worthless plethora of supplyj the oats and hay which
no horses' mouths were to be left to consume. The horse*
breeder took heart again when he found that, the railway system
created a demand for subsidiary feeders^ requiring a vast
increase in the use of live horse-power. In proportion as the
railways len^thened^ the demand for horses augmented and
strengthened. The iron ways created new branches of repro-
ductive industry^ and immensely enlarged the whole businesB
of the country; calling into existence^ withal^ a passenger
traffic such as had never existed anywhere in the history of
mankind. To ride upon the railways became a pleasure to
thousands^ a necessity to hundreds and thousands of thousands;
and to convey people to the railways a new system of town
travelling was required. Prior to the railroad era^ neither in
the metropolitan nor in the largest provincial towns were there
many public conveyances except such as were to be specially
hired for each journey from the licensed coach proprietors ;
and as this kind of travelling was inconvenient^ unready, and
expensive, only the few availed themselves of it. The old
hackney coaches, or 'flys/ of London, had begun to be
pressed very haid about the year 1830 by two-wheeled
'cabriolets' of somewhat box-like construction, opening
behind, and having a double seat on each side, and a 'box'
for the driver in front. These, afler having subserved the
requirements of the public for some years, were in their turn
thrown into the shade by Hansom's patent safety cab, which
was brought out in 1837, and still holds its ground in all the
principal towns for the lighter and swifter share of the traffic.
The short and sharp work with many of the coaches effected
by the fiery locomotive^ was very different frem the slow effect
produced on the old lumbering hackney coaches of London*
in defiance of lighter vehicles and lower fares, these antiquated
machines, with their still more antiquated drivers, were only
withdrawn from public service by slow degrees, disappearing
one by one, and not quite vanishing till there ceased to be a
single enemy to modem improvement found willing to patronize
them. The Hansom cabs in London now appear to be largely
in the majority over the other coaches and cabs. Since, at a
recent date^ the total number of both sorts was five thousand
eight hundred, it is evident that the cab business in the
metropolis, both as regards its service to the public, its
310 Modem Tovm Conveyances.
value to the proprietors, and its use to a large body of their
Bervants, is an institution of no small importance; and a
similar development of a cabbipg business that was but in its
infancy before railways were opened, has occurred in all the
provincial towns.
Whilst the new cabs did much to supply the requirements
of town travelling, the great public that needed to ride, but
•could not aflTord to pay much for its accommodation, required
a still more economical method of locomotion in towns. The
opening of railway stations soon compelled coach masters and
hotel keepers to run omnibuses to meet the trains ; but only
by slow degrees did they awaken to a sense of how the
public demand for vehicles would be taught to develope itself
«o soon as there should be visible a public supply. The year
1829 had witnessed the first appearance of the omnibus, — a
new light sort of coach, with accommodation for more pas-
sengers in its interior than the old road coach had aflForded,
but not at first, with all the increased development of external
carrying power, afterwards obtained by the introduction and
utilization of the 'knife-board' on the top. Previously to
this epoch passengers, as in the old coaches, had always sat
facing either the front of the vehicle or the back. There was
no happy medium between directly fronting either the
prospect or the retrospect. Now, the retrospective seat, often
so ' sea-sickening ' to bad travellers, happily is abolished ;
and the customer either sits, like the driver, in the front, or
takes a side-view of the shops and houses as he occupies his
thrifty modicum of space on the knife-board. During the
last forty years, the attention and energies of men of capital
have been largely thrown into the omnibus service ; and the
modem vehicle, in every way a great improvement on the
primitive omnibus, though less so in London than in many
other towns, gives occupation to immense stables of horses
prodigiously exceeding in numbers those at which, in the
second generation backwards, our predecessors lifted up the
eyebrows of their astonished admiration.
Messrs. Mitchell and Menziea, of Glasgow, have the credit
of converting the more primitive omnibus into a really com-
modious convenience, with room up its centre for the con-
ductor to walk without bruising the knees of passengers, and
unencumbered with the stupid door boxing up the old
vehicles. The new omnibus is drawn, not as of yore, by two
wheelers and a leader guided by great and needless develop-
ments of rein-ribbons passing through brass hoops affixed to
hard hide-wounding saddles, but now with three horses that
work fairly abreast, and have no belly-bands, tail-straps, or
Modem Town Conveyances. 311
otlier unnecessary harness. Fourpence outside and sixpence
in^ for even the shortest distances^ was still the most lenient
charge of the omnibus driver, until Mr. Frame, a gentleman
connected with the newspaper press of Glasgow, commenced,
January the first, 1845, to run an omnibus between Bridgeton
and Anderston (two opposite suburbs of Glasgow), at two-
pence for the whole two-mile distance, or any part of it. Mr.
Frame^s scheme was found to be both a profitable speculation
and a great public benefit ; and, although Mr. Frame, at tho
end of a couple of years, overtaken by misfortune, was com-
pelled to retire, men of capital followed up the scheme, and
the Glasgow omnibus with its cheap fare found great develop-
ment in all the large cities and towns in the provinces. In
Liverpool, even a penny fare was adopted for a while.
Ultimately the charge, as it did in Manchester^ became fixed at
twopence outside and threepence in. The introduction of tho
improved omnibus system into Manchester was made by a
Scotchman named Macewen, about the year 1852. In 1861,
in view of the International Exhibition traffic, Mr. Grreenwood,
of Manchester, sent up a large number of the new omnibuses
to the metropolis, to compete with the old-fashioned small
boxes that still contented the Londoners, but this efibrt failed
to revolutionise the London omnibus system. The immense
traffic of the leading thoroughfares of the metropolis, the
narrowness of the streets, and the treacherous character of
the pavements, proved too much for the new vehicle with its
lightly-harnessed horses. The streets are not only being
aubjected to immense grind and wear, with consequent ruts
and uneven edges, but they have a specially hateful repute for
all kinds of drags and their horses. In frosty weather the
face of the pavement becomes smooth as polished steel and
slippery as oUed glass ; and in the summer season, particularly
when the stones are denuded of dust by the winds, it is
difficult for horses used to the ground and displaying the
greatest caution, to keep upon their legs. There is yet
another condition of the London pavement that is little less
dangerous to horses, and is supposed to be peculiar to the
great metropolis : — when the stones are only partially wetted,
they seem to be covered with a greasy slime, over which
the poor frightened horses will frequently slip and slide the
length, it may be, of their own bodies. When a new horse is
brought to do duty, either in a cab or an omnibus, in London,
if he is not very carefully managed, he is very likely to lose all
courage and become useless, and even to die 'broken-
hearted ^ during his apprenticeship. In fact, many cab horses
are ruined in the first week of their metropolitan probation
312 Modem Town Oowveyan^s.
The streets of London^ besides being the most periloTis for
animals and human beings^ are moi^ disgracefimy dirty in
wet weather; and their mud has cohesire quality almost
equal to that of birdlime. We well remember our astonish-
ment when we first went to the metropolis. The mud on the
trowser we expeoted^ as usual^ to rub off as soon as drr, witk
a few slight scrapes of the nail and touches of the brush ; and
the expense of labour and loss of time that proyed to be
required to get rid of it^ were both astonishing and
disgusting.
At the present time there are over nine hundred omnibuses
in London^ fire hundred of which are the property of the
General Omnibus Company; the rest belong to Tarious pro-
prietors. Nearly all these conveyances ply from two centres—*
Oharing Gross jand the Bank-Hsave outside part of the city
and its wide-spreading suburbs. Some notion may be formed
of the number of human beings continually on the more in the
metropolis^ when it is stated that the General Omnibus Com*
pany alone, in the two half-years ending respectively in Decem-
oeTi 1867 and 1868> conveyed forty-one million four hundred
and eleven thousand four hundred and eighty passengers*
Great as this number is> it does not show the total personal
traffic ; it must be vexy largely added to by the travellers in
cahn, leaving out of the reckoning the immense numbers carried
by tlio moti^politan railway, the steamboats on the river, and
the railways branching off on all sides to the suburbs. During
•is months ending in December of 1868, the distance traversea
by the CJoni^ral Omnibus Companv^s vehicles, when reduced to
measuroinont, proved to be six miUion one hundred and eleven
thouwMul six hundred and thirty miles.
Ho rt^omiU^ as the year 1847 there was not a single two*
whot^Uil oab in Glasgow, then as now the first commercial city
of BooUand. So much was the want of lighter conveyances
ftilti, ilmt the town council actually offered a premium of two
JbuiHlrtnl pounds to any person who would undertake to supply
Uii) oii'Y with a few two-wheelers, and the prize was never
Cklsiinnui It was not long, however, before the want of cabs in
Olanvow was supplied by the enterpnze of citizens, and at the
ptiNil^itd time her facilities for local travelling place Glasgow
about ott a level with any city in the empire. Three hun£red
and siftty-ilvo cabs and one hundred and thirteen omnibuses
nitw provo Iho hiffhly stimulative effect of the railway system
til iimt uity, whion had not a single street cab of its own at a
ttarlud (tnUng back little more than thirty years. To people
wlio aro uimcMiuaintod with the relative proportions of Edon^
Imrgh aud Ulasgowi it may seem unaccountable that there
Modem Town Oonveyanees. 818
Bhould Iiave been recently eighty-fire more cabs in the former
than in the latter. The disparity in the relative numbers
of omnibuses in favour of Glasgow will give a truer notion of
the business habits of the respective peoples. Glasgow has
omnibus routes in all directions^ but in Edinburgh tiiiere is
comparatively very little travelling by this more popular class
of vehicle. A recent return states the number of cabs in
Edinburgh at four hundred and fiftyj and of omnibuses at
thirty-five. There were at the same recent date ninety-nine
cabs in Leeds and twenty-five omnibuses. In Birmingham there
were four hundred and two cabs and only twenty omnibuses.
In Bristol there were one hundred and seventy cabs and forty-
three omnibuses^ but fully one-half of the latter are kept for
special purposes. In the number of conveyances for town
travellings Liverpool stood next to London^ having eight hun-
dred cabs and one hundred and thirty-three omnibuses. In
1843 she had two hundred and seventy-eight hapkney coaches.
Within the memory of living men, laverpool was haunted by
pressganes, and a few sailing^ ferry-boats met all the require-
ments of ner people for passing to and &om the Cheshire side
of theMersey. Tne largeamount of businessdoneinManohaster
wouldlead to the supposition that the requirementsforstreetcon-
veyances of that city would be little short of those for the town
of Liverpool ; such, however, is not the case, as her cabs by late
returns numbered three hundred and eighty, and her omnibuses
one hundred and twenty-nine. Prior to 1828, persons now
living knew Manchester when Market-street, her central
thoroughfisure, was a narrow lane walled in on either side by
* wooden-framed houses with protuberant upper stories, quaint
fables, mullioned windows, and small diamond-shaped panes,
uch persons still remember that at that time alxnost every
man in the town in any respectable way of business kept his
own town conveyance, and, unless when going a journey at a
distance&omthe town,never used any other. Between sixty and
seventy years ago there were numbers of old people in Lanca-
shire who had never seen anything more like a coach than a
rude country cart ; and there were not a few of the hill-folks
who had never tasted wheaten bread in their lives. In the
seven cities and towns we have mentioned, exclusive of London,
there are two thousand six hundred and thirty-six cabs and
four hundred and fifty-two omnibuses. When it is considered
that less than sixty years ago there were not three towns out
of London in which a hackney coach openly plied for hire, an
unmistakable proof is afforded of the great change that has
been effected in the locomotive aptitudes and facilities of the
people. In London, in one year^ the recorded receipts from
314 Modem Tovm Conveyances.
the omnibus traffic alone of the Greneral Omnibus Company
amounted to five hundred and seventy-four thousand eight
hundred and seventy-eight pounds^ fifteen shillings^ and nine-
pence.
Both in London and in the provinces the street conveyances
are under the immediate control of the civic authorities.
Generally speaking the licences of drivers are granted, as in
the metropolis, by the police authorities ; and in Liverpool the
cabs and omnibuses are under the supervision of the Watch
Committee of the Town Council. In Edinburgh the licences
are granted in the City Chamber by the Depute Clerk. Li
some of the large towns an officer is appointed under the title
of Cab-inspector, whose duty it is to see that these vehicles
are in a fit working condition, both as to cleanliness and safety.
The local authorities impose a number of regulations on the
drivers, intended to prevent them from overcharging or other-
wise ill-treating their customers, or from appropriating their
lost property. The travelling public and the cab proprietors
have often needed mediation of this kind, the one insisting on
low prices, the other determining to keep up a high rate of
charge. A moderate by-law rate has always been found most
profitable. Li London many have been the hard fights
between the public and the cabmen, and on the whole the
result has been little better than a drawn battle. As a rule^
it is not to be doubted but that the cab business has been a
paying one, but to make it so requires good management^
including all the care and economy the proprietors can bring
to bear. Extraordinary is the wear, tear, and damage under-
gone by vehicles and horses when on duty in the streets of
London. The cab masters have been hardly dealt with till
now, having been made to pay an atnnual tax of from eighteen
to twenty pounds per cab — a most objectionable form of impost.
Should they hereafter combine to erect a statue in London,
their hero will undoubtedly be the present Chancellor of the
Exchequer, who has won for himself a great name amongst
cab proprietors by releasing them in his budget of last session
from this oppressive tax. The relief will be great not only to
the master but also indirectly to the drivers, and will tend to
the better service of the public at large. On February the Ist
an entire change in the cab system will be efiected under the
new Act on hackney carriages, which will then come into
force. There will in the metropolis be complete free trade in
cabs and carriages for hire. Each carriage is to have painted
on its doors the fares at which the owner will convey passen-
gers. It is anticipated that better cabs will be introduced to
the notice of the public.
Modem Town Conveyanc$8. 315
The Biographies of Cabmen, were they adequately written,
would often be deeply interesting, and not seldom truly
pathetic. Perhaps, apart from the gold diggings of Australia
and California, no so heterogeneous a body of working men
can be found anywhere in the world as is constituted by the
London cabmen. All social grades are represented amongst
them, from broken-down aristocrats to exalted crossing
sweepers. A cabman was pointed out to ns a few months ago
who had been a landed gentleman worth his thousand pounds
a year only a short time before. Another had once a good
business of his own as a carver and gilder. Others whom we
have known have fallen victims to their own folly, the drinking
customs, and the arts of the liquor traffickers ; others have been
thrust down from superior social positions by sheer misfortune,
and have not touched the bottom in the quagmire of poverty,
until the ' dickey ' of the cab received them.
The life of a cab driver in London is one of continual danger
and hardship. He is necessarily out in all kinds of seasons,
and is exposed to a variety of temptations from which it is
very difficult for him to escape. The worse the weather, tho
more certain is he to be out in it ; for it is when the general
public are deserting the streets to find shelter from storms of
rain, snow, or hail, or to secure shade in the sultry and roast-
ing sunshine, that the cabman^s services are most indispensable.
For him or his horse no human being has any consideration ;
whether the animal is exhausted with a day's hard toil, no one
who wants a cab takes the trouble to inquire ; nor does any
' fare ' think it unfair that the man who drives the animal
should be kept away for any stretch of time from his dinner or
his bed. To balance this external disadvantage, the cabman
has to struggle internally with an ever-recurring topological
problem. How to get from this place to that by the shortest
route ; how to discover exactly where that place is, even, is
often a practical puzzle to the cabman whose memory for streets
and routes is not extraordinarily roomy and tenacious. In
provincial towns the leading roads are few, and the whole
topography is a science, quite susceptible of being mastered.
Not so with the never perfectly knowable map of the great
metropolis. And yet a driver must be somewhat familiar with
the large city, its outlying territories, and ever- changing and
S rowing suburbs, before he can be at all efficient in his vocation,
[any drivers, it is true, accustomed to ply in some one neigh-
bourhood, often know little that lies beyond, and when required
to travel out of their familiar bounds, are as much at a loss as
the most veritable greenhorn from the country. Then again,
the streets of the most populous provincial town are scarcely
316 Modem Town Oonveycmcei,
ever inconveniently crowded; but mUea upon miles of the
leading routes in the metropolis are ceaselessly thronged with
vehicles of all kinds^ amongst which the cabman has to thrid
his perilous way. As many as fifteen hundred journeys are
performed daily over one single thoroughfare by omnibuses
alone ; and thousand of journeys are run by cabs^ wagons,
lurries^ carts^ private carnages^ business vans^ costermonger
traps^ and hand trucks^ all of which are continually travelling
about in mutually retarding streams. Here^ a confluence of
divers rivers of wheeled traj£c meets and creates a too durable
stagnation ; there^ the whole movement of vehicles and foot
!)assengers densely crowding a street is brought to a dead
ock by the collision or break-down of some machine on wheels^
the fall and crushing to death of some pede^trian^ or the last
dying testimony and kicking remonstrance against ita fate of
some poor over- worked animaL' Accidents nke these are of
frequent occurrence^ and eveir one of them adds largely to
the difficulty of the cabman^ whose skill has at all times a hard
fight of it^ to keep his own vehicle from running over others,
or being run over. To men new in the business^ whose skill
is undeveloped^ the difficulty is immense^ and the wear and tear
of temper is most lamentable.
Of the temptations to which cabmen are exposed there is,
as we have said^ a copious variety. Valuable articles are
accidentally dropped or thoughtlessly left in cabs by passengers,
and become very trying to the honesty of the orivers who
discover them. Occasionally customers are so-called gentle-
men who have left their wits in taverns^ and are unable to take
care either of their money or of themselves. Very often the
' fare ' is, or appears to oe, not quite aware of the proper fare
to pay, and it is more or less difficult for the cabman to forego
the opportunity of imposing or trying to impose on such
tempting innocence. Then there are the frequent chances of
giving the wrong change in moments of hurry or in circum-
stances of darkness; of returning no change at all, where the
passenger's wits are obviously gone wool-gathering ; or of be-
coming partners in adventures with prostitutes and thieves.
Whatever individuals may be guilty oi, it would be unfair to
accuse of such misconduct the whole body of cab-drivers. To
assist them in the course of rectitude many of them prefer,
there is a wholesome fear of magisterial visitations of fines,
imprisonments, and supensions or withdrawals of licence. On
the whole, the life of a cabman in London is not a very enviable
one, and, considering all things, it is not a little creditable to
the men that so many of them are well conducted and respect-
able. To add to his difficulties, too often it must be remem-
Modem Toum Oanveyane$s. 817
bered that the driver is ^ treated ' by thoughtless passengerSj
and thus acquires or augments drinking habits to the last degree
inimical to his welfare. This danger is increased by the fact
that as his whereabouts daring the day is necessarily unoertainj
his arrangements for meals are incomplete^ and the public
tap is always ready to supply him with sometibing to narcotise
and deaden the feeling of hunger when it arises^ or to gratify
his natural or artificial thirst. In a body of eiffht thousand men— <-
for such is the numerical total of the London cabmen — ^there
will be, of course, some who make no difficulty in committing
all sorts of disreputable actions ; but considering their hard-
ships, liabilities, and allurements, their conduct on the whole
will compare favourably with that of almost any other equally
large class of working men in the kingdom.
Two conditions are requisite for the obtaining of a cab-
driver's licence in London. Li the first place, the applicant
must procure the testimony of two respectable householders to
his good moral character ; and, in the second, he must pass
an examination to prove his sufficient acquaintance with the
various routes in the city and suburbs. On his obtaining
employment, the driver's name and the date of his engage-
ment are entered in his license by his employer; and when he
relinquishes the vocation, his licence paper is made to show
on the fSstce of it the cause of such relinquishment. A man
who is not somewhat careful alike of his master's property and
of his own character,, will soon have no property to be in
charge of, and no character to be of the slightest service to
himself. A large infusion of uncertainty causes the cabman's
work to be of a speculative character, as it is impossible to
foresee whether he will or will not on any given day find fall
employment for the horses and cab. If the latter has two
wheels, with which a pair of horses divide the day between
them, he is expected to pay the proprietor from fourteen to
sixteen shillings, and on special days may have to produce as
many as twenty shillings. What he earns above the sum
thus required by the owner, constitutes the whole of the wages
on which he has to live ; and if, as sometimes occurs, he has
not received a single fare, he must yet pay the owner just the
same sum as though he had been fully employed all day. The
four-wheeled cabs generally rate at two shillings a day less
than the Hansoms ; the night cabs, which may be considered
to be the last refuges for stifi'-limbed horses and aged or other*
wise semi-disqualified men, are charged from five shillings to
eight shillings per night. The night work is especially trying,
exposing men and horses to much sufiering and privation; and
it is with much difficulty that some of the drivers succeed, if
318 Mod$m Town Conveyances^
they do succeed, in keeping their bodies in connection with,
their souls. If some of the younger men do much more than
this, the gain to the body is much more than counterbalanced
by the damage to the soul, since success is won by poaching
on preserves, dodging round comers in the dark at critical
moments, or making the police partners in profits that are
unlawful. Although there are five thousand eight hundred cabs
in London, there is only authorized standing room for two
thousand four hundred — or less than half, A large number
of cabs regularly attend on the railway stations, but for the
privilege of doing so the proprietors have to pay a handsome
percentage to the companies. We are not certain that all of
the railways are contracted for, but have been told that the
cab contractor for the Great Eastern pays that company fifteen
hundred pounds a year ; if so, he will no doubt charge the cab
proprietors two thousand pounds at the least. To account for
the weight of this impost, it would appear that the railway
stations afford a much more steady and profitable business than
the streets generally.
In the present stage of two-wheeled pedestrianism, it would
be premature, whilst treating of street conveyances for the use
of the public, to bestow a lengthy notice on the velocipede, that
remarkable machine which has astonished the streets of many
of the provincial towns during the past two seasons. To
mount and to drive a tandem of two wheels is often so arduous
a labour, and the gain in locomotive power is so xmcertain,
that considerable improvements must yet be made in the
machine before it will contribute materially to the superseding
of bulkier and less dangerous vehicles. The time is no doubt
at hand for laying much more stress on street railways,
which under the crude management of a gasconading American
of the name of Train, obtained a very unsuccessful introduction
into this country some few years back. In Salford a street
railway on a less objectionable plan than that of the American
adventurer has been in existence for some years ; it exhibits a
line of two flat iron rails level with the pavement, with, for
guiding purposes, a central groove between them in which runs
a small wheel attached to the omnibus and lifted up from or
restored to the groove at the option of the driver. The only
advantages obtained by this form of street railway appear to
be a somewhat diminished pull upon the horses, and a smoother
progress for the ease of passengers. But nothing appears to
be gained in speed, as the line is open to interruption from
all sorts of slow vehicles ; and, on the whole, we are not sur-
prised that this plan has met with no great extension. Recently
in Liverpool a fresh experiment with street rails for omnibuses
Modem Town Oonveywnces. 819
tliat are to stop only at certam fixed stations has begnn to be
tried. We suspect it is this example that has given the sadden
strong impulse now visible to street tramway development^
not only in Liverpool, but elsewhere. At a recent meeting of
the Mersey Dock Board, it was stated that the Liverpool
Tramways Company intend applying next session for powers
to run over streets within the board^s jurisdiction. Powers
will also be sought by Messrs. Busby, extensive omnibus pro-
{)rietors at Liverpool, to form a tramway, about three miles in
ength, from the Exchange to West Derby, one of the most
populous suburbs of Liverpool. The promoters of the Metro-
politan Tramways Bill have affixed notices in accordance with
the Act on the following thoroughfares on which it is pro-
posed to lay down tramways: — Holbom, High Holbom,
Charterhouse-street, St. Martin's-le-Ghrand, Parringdon Bead,
Farringdon-street, New Bridge-street, Chatham Place, Black-
friars Bridge, the new street to the Mansion House, Earl-street,
Victoria-street, and New Earl-street. It is proposed to extend
street tramways locomotion to Leeds, and notices have been
given in the usual way that duringthe next session of Parliament
application is to be made for an act to incorporate a company
for making tramways. In Manchester three distinct companies
are publishing similar notices. For the first scheme for a street
tramway in t£e West of England, powers will be sought in
the next session to lay down and work a tramway between
the towns of Plymouth and Devonport. Application also is
to be made next session for powers to lay down a connected
system of street tramways throughout Glasgow and to different
Eoints in the vicinity. There will be two tramways on every
ne of street made use of, and each tramway will be five feet
in breadth. It is intended to leave a clear space of ten feet
between each line, consequently in a street of the average
breadth — say 40 feet — ^there will be ten feet between the
pavement and the nearest line, then five feet of tramway
again, and ten feet once more between that and the opposite
pavement. The tramways will consist of iron pavements, not
unlike steelyard weighing machines, five feet and one inch in
breadth, with sunk grooves to fit the car wheels, and ribbed
or risen fretwork between the grooves to keep the horses from
slipping, and, as the iron plates will be laid exactly on the
same level with the causeway, it is said there will be no inter-
ruption or impediment to the other traffic. The cars will be
low-set, with the wheels underneath, and not unlike railway
carriages in outward appearance. They will be alike at both
ends, and seated inside like an omnibus, but the passage
between the rows of sitters will be much more ample than t^o
820 Modem Town Chrweyaneei.
largest omnibas at present affords. Sitting aooommodatioii
wiU be proTided for forty or fifbjr persons, and as many outside.
At each end of the car there is a door and small platform,
reached by one Btep> and &cei by a ' splash-board j' and
passengers can enter the carriage from either end. The
horses are attached to this platform, and the drirer stands
upon it with a powerful wheel-brake at hand, so that he can
bring the car to a stand-still by a single turn of the wheeL
On reaching the terminus the coupling eear is unhooked, and
the horses are shifted to the otner end, and this saves the
necessity of turning round the carriage. The outside pas-
sengers reach their seats b^ a moreable trap-stair placed
behind^ and the sitting space is surrounded by an ornamental
railing such as is seen on the promenade decks of our finest
river steamers. There are, we learn, no fewer than nineteen
street tramway schemes, for towns in England and Scotland,
now standing to be dealt with in the n»t session of Parlia*
ment. It is evident that our street locomotion is on the eve
of great changes.
A novelty in street locomotion is now attracting attention
in Paris. One of the road steamers, with indiarubber tires to
the wheels, invented by Thomson, of Edinburgh, has been
nmning through the streets of Paris dragg^g behind it a
heavy Versailles omnibus carrying 50 passengers. On the
report of the French Gt>vemment engineers, leave has been
granted to the road steamer to pass over two routes, several
miles in length, and including some busy parts of Paris. The
engineers report it more handy and manageable than horses^
and in no way dangerous to the public. The huge indiarubber
tires save the machinery from jolting and the road from ruts.
The speed is that of a fast omnibus. The steam carriage went
up the paved street beside the Trocadero, of which the gntdients
are one in eleven, and often one in nine, without the least
difficulty, and came down again without any brake.
In this country the absurdest restrictions, at which posterity
will laugh heartUy, have been imposed on the use of steam
locomotion in public highways. The foolish act is certain to
be repealed, and the present generation will live to see a great
extension of steam locomotion upon the common roads, as
well as upon that bastard extension of the railway system
which is now threatening to occupy our streets so largely.
Underground locomotion has obtained great triumphs in
London ; and by the cheap Tower subway, now on the eve of
completion, as well as by BrunePs costly tunnel, it is pro-
mising to hold its own even under water. But it is to
America that we turn for the reverse of this burrowing
Reporting and Reporters. 321
system. In New York they have travelling in the air. The
' New York Elevated Eailroad/ in its first section, on Green-
wich-street, between the Batteiy and Cortlandt-street, is now
completed and in running order. The following description
is supplied in a New York journal, and would have been
better if more lucid : — The first section of the line is run by
a stationary engine in a cellar, which propels an endless steel
rope, supported on trucks of four wheels, also running inside
of rails at an interval of 150 feet. The frame of the trucks
forms a triangle on the top, the cone of which is called a
' horn / this catches a ^ lip ' attached to a lever worked from
the platform of the car, which, when lifted, allows the truck
and rope to pass by, and the car remains stationary. In order
to start the car again a turn of the lever is necessary, and
then the truck catches the lip and the carriage is in motion.
The car is about thirty feet in length. It will accommodate
forty passengers. It runs on eight wooden wheels, three feet
in diameter. Steel flanges one and three-quarters of an inch
wide hold the wheels on to the track. On either side of the
cax are iron bars ten inches wide running the full length of
the car within about two inches of the track, on which heavy
elUptic springs support the body of the carriage. Should the
wheels of the car leave the track, the bars on each side would
prevent it from falling to the ground. Between these bars,
underneath the floor of the car, are arranged six elliptic springs
of two feet span, moving on wheels, which break the shock
of the truck carrying the rope when the car is started. While
under way there is scarcely any vibration felt ; the track is
apparently very solid, and the motion of the car very easy.
The speed is regulated by the brakes, and the noise the car
makes by running is scarcely perceptible. Horses view the
moving mass overhead with indifference, and people under-
neath scarcely look up. The company propose to erect
steam elevators to lift persons and baggage tp the platform
from which to step into the cars.
EEPORTING AND EBPORTEES.
AEECKLESS anti- State Churchman once divided mankind
into men, women, and bishops. The constituents of
public meetings are at least equally susceptible of a tripartite
division — namely, into speakers, hearers, and reporters. Not
that reporters always fail to be hearers also ; and, in their
Vol. 12.— No. 48. V
822 Reporting cmd Beparters,
turn, speakers to boot. But their speaking in public is
mostly amongst themselves, and concerns itself mainly with
the details of their work, the length and order of their respec-
tive ^ takes,' the comparative importance or otherwise of the
speeches from the platform, the length or brevity of the
required report of each speech, and the ^ person ' — whether
'first' or 'third' — ^in which it shall be couched. As
for the hearership of reporters, that depends upon cir-
cumstances. If the speaker stands well with the public,
the party, or the proprietor of the newspaper, he re-
ceives most careful attention from the 'gentlemen of the
press.' But matters go quite diflferently if he is a speaker of
but average consequence in the reporter's eyes; and nothing
can be more trying to the temper of an ambitious orator whose
right to be heard fully has not yet been stamped with the
popular seal, than the nonchalance wherewith the reporters
yawn, rest their pens, or converse, whilst he is speaking, or
than the ruthlessness wherewith, if the meeting nears its
close, they even shut their books and disappear. Reporters
are, indeed, a class of themselves. Everybody recognises
them, yet few know very much about them. On all public
occasions they are to be seen ; yet they are not of the public,
take no pleasure in what most tickles the public, are usually
calm, cool, unsympathetic, even when the public is convulsed,
and see with equal eye, as reporters of all, the meeting's hero
discomfited, or its sparrow fall. Whilst others are enjoying
at their ease graceful turns of eloquence, or luxuriating in
the happy glitter of platform wit, the reporters are working
like slaves, receiving with serious ears, and poring with
wrinkled foreheads over, the speaker's most brilliant displays.
No matter how affecting the discourse may be, they remain all
impassive to the pathos. When the hall begins to empty itself^
and the gas is about to be turned oflf, the public retires, feeling
that all is over ; but the reporters go away knowing that much
is only begun. For hours, it may be, of rapid and laborious
transcription and condensation are still before them ; and
whilst the public is sleeping in its bed, the reporters are feed-
ing the compositors with 'copy,' and are earning, by continued
night toil, half a forenoon's repose.
If Talleyrand's rule against zeal were always good, and if
it were as desirable to cultivate the nil admirari art as Horace
and Pope declare it to be, ' to make men happy, or to keep
them so,' perhaps no surer way of effecting these could be
found than in undergoing a long apprenticeship on the report-
ing staff*. However decided his opinions, earnest his zeal, or
ardent his admiration of a person^ a party^ or a cause^ the
B&porUng and Reporters* 823
neopliyte in reporting must have a mind of xmusnal strength
of fibre if these are not to suffer much abatement in the course
of the exercise of his profession. Like a tissue steeped with
rapid vicissitudes in things hot, cold, wet, and dry, his
mind naturally becomes covered, as with a tough skin, with
moral and intellectual impassivity. He who is to-night at
a missionary meeting will be early next morning, perhaps, at
a prize fight. At one hour he is invoked to rescue the
Church and conserve the State from the onslaughts of a semi-
demoniac premier ; a few hours before he was called on to
rejoice in the advent to supreme power of a minister who,
above all others, is wise to understand and strong to accom-
plish the imperative and blessed disestablishing duty of the
times. At a licensed victuallers' dinner yesterday, to-day he
is seated near the platform of the United Kingdom Alliance.
Now he is steeping his soul in a fine flow of Fenian eloquence,
against which anon he is reporting appeals to magistrates and
the executive for stem measures of repression. At one
moment commissioned to record the rivalries of racehorses
and the latest betting of the ring ; ere long he will be listen-
ing, pen in hand, to the solemn harangues of a Dean Close or
of a Dr. M'Neile. Just now it is a theatrical notice that he
is preparing; his next task will be reporting the outline
of a funeral sermon, or the performances of a priesthood
with cope, chasuble, and candle. The shrewdest forecasts of
practical statesmanship occupy his note-book to-night ; on the
morrow he must report, as patiently as possible, the doings of
a parish vestry, or the harrowing delirations of a Cumming.
In the exercise of his quasi ubiquitous duties, he was sitting
last night where the most earnest appeals to the etem^
interests of his soul were pressing upon his ears ; to-night he
is following the vagaries of a secularist lecturer, and sits
vis-a-vis with some female atheist who 'talks him dead.'
It is at one moment a military review or an election riot that
he is watching. In a little while he will be viewing the
scorched bodies of a colliery explosion, or writing down the
evidence adduced before the coroner and his jury. Again, it
is the bursting of a reservoir of which he is collecting the
particulars ; or he is gathering up the details of a gas explo-
sion, pursuing the traces and consequences of a burglaiy, or
describing the horrible incidents of a murder. No sooner is
his mind allured or compelled into one attitude than it is
hurried away into another; sympathy and antipathy, rejoicing
and lamentation, burlesque and tragic feeling, religious light, su-
perstitious twilight and pagan darkness, philanthropic earnest-
ness, and worse than utter indifferentism, succeed each other
324 Bsporting and Beporters.
in rapid flow^ until in the whirl of a dissipation so raried and
incessant^ he is too apt to settle at last in the conyiction that
all causes are equally well or ill founded^ all persuasions alike
unsound or sounds all events on one level of real importance
or unimportance^ and the popularity of the daj or the sensa-
tional veJue of a deed the only authentic test of the intrinsic
worth of events^ men^ principles^ and parties. One com-
pensation for this deteriorating tendency upon its servant
18 derived by the public at large in the almost judicial
coolness wherewith the experienced reporter is able to
sit amidst the wrack of political elements or the crash
of religious worlds. He is almost always a latitudinarian in
theology. His instinct, indeed, is to be intolerant of religioua
and philanthropic earnestness in all their forms. He is usually
intensely bigoted against what he conceives to be bigotry ;.
and this bigotry of his inclines him to report in opposition to
all religious doctrine, and in fay our of all that fritters life away in
aimless indiflferentisms, excepting perhaps in the political field.
In all other respects he can write with a calm impartiality^
and be like a mirror, reflecting, without exaggeration, the
most conflicting varieties of opinion. The bias, tf not against
' bigotry,' which is sometimes evident in a report, is usually
that of the journal in which the report appears, and not that
of the mind of the reporter. It is due to him, also, to con-
fess that the hasty or, it may be, the prejudiced pen of the
sub-editor is sometimes run through parts of the reporter's
work, and that insertions are occasionally made in the editor's
room with which the reporter is not in the least chargeable.
He has his own personal aversions, but these come out most
markedly against the twaddling bore of a speaker who, having
nothing at all to say, occupies a full hour in saying it. Him
it is the delight of the contemptuous reporter to ^ crumple up,'
and next morning the public must satisfy itself with the
information that the honourable member made some remarks
which were inaudible in the gallery, or that Mr. Higgins, at
some length, supported the resolution. Truth compels us to
say that misroporting has not always been unintentional. A
reporter has been known to take revenge in this way. And we
once heard a very ungrammatical councilman gravely bring it
before the town council as a grievance that a certain reporter
had, with malice aforethought, put into the newspaper a
verbatim report of one of his speeches. It is well remem-
bered, on the other hand, that O^Connell at one time ofiended
the Parliamentary reporters. They did not misreport, but
)k a more deadly revenge, and till he made his peace with
reports entirely ignored him. We have already
Rcportmg and Reporters. 825
hinted that whilst the reporter is often a very keen disoemar
as well as a hater of cant^ unfortunately he sometimes sees it
where it is not^ and confounds sincere earnestness, especially
if religious, with its most hypocritical simulatives. Yery often
he is proud of his own intelligence, of which he has an
immovable opinion, and sits ludicrously perched in a lofty
judgment seat, even over men of the widest executive capa-
city and the most comprehensive intelligence. Of his profes-
sional privileges he is acutely jealous. At a great price of
self-assertion, and by slow degrees, reportership has won for
itself drqring the last half century a distinguished place ; and
conductors of meetings are pretty well aware now that
it is important to afford to the gentlemen of the press
those superior fSacilities for seeing, hearing, and recording
that the efficient exercise of their profession requires. Any
sUght put upon them in this respect will probably be both
keenly felt and sorely resented. And when, as sometimes
happens, they have to deal with some jack-in-office who
ignores the respect they deem due to their intelligence and
function, they are apt, with a strong esprit de corps, to make
common cause against him, and to repay the injury in a
manner not at all conducive to his comfort or self-complacence.
The art of shorthand writing is of great antiquity. It is
believed to have originated amongst the Greeks, and to have
been transmitted by them to the Romans. Plutarch, in his life
of Cato, tells how Cicero, the consul, had dispersed about the
senate-house several expert writers whom he had taught to
make certain symbols, and who did, in little and short strokes
equivalent to words, pen down all he said. Martial's lines
are well known —
Currant Torba licet, manus est yeloeior illis,
Nondum lingua suum, dextra peregit opua.
The art, however, was lost with the old Roman civilisation,
and though re-appearing occasionally in the interval, has only
during the last half century come largely into the service of
mankind. A knowledge of shorthand to the reporter is
highly desirable, — indeed, in these days, it may be said to be
indispensable. Bat this is only one of his qualifications, and
not always the most important. There are gentlemen of the
press that still remember brilliant instances of reporting
competency on the part of professionals who were entirely
unacquainted with any kind of stenography. In an abbre-
viated longhand, but quite legible enough to avail for the use
of the compositor, there were men in the profession some
thirty years ago who could keep up with a rapid speaker^
828 E&porting and Reporters.
though omitting all his mere verbiage, and have ready for
the press, when he sat down, a remarkably accurate and
long, though, of course, condensed report of his harangue.
"We knew a gentleman of such powerful and well-trained
memory, that he could write at his leisure a wonder-
fully correct report of a meeting entirely from recollection
without a note ; and another who, in our presence in an assize
court, having been diligently transcribing from notes the
report of a previous meeting, was yet able to write from
memory a correct paragraph gi^ng the details of the trial of
each prisoner immediately on its conclusion. Still spoken of
are the days of ' Memory Woodfall,^ who, by the aid of hard-
boiled eggs, was used to sit out the debates in Parliament,
and wrote their substance from recollection afterwards. The
famous Dr. Abernethy, when lecturing at one of the metro-
politan hospitals, once set his face most resolutely against the
reporters. He was so determined that the Lancet should not
publish his lectures, that he spared no device of espionage or
threat to discover which of the students was the culprit ; and
even, on one occasion, had the lights put out, and lectured in
the dark. The excellent memory of Mr. Wakley^s reporter
defeated all his attempts. It often happens now that a
reporter will be, concurrently, writing from notes what a pre-
vious speaker had said, and putting into his note book the
leading features of a speech then in course of delivery. But the
great triumphs of memory or of rapid longhand reporting, once
familiar to the press, are no longer to be found. They have
been rendered unnecessary by great improvements in steno-
graphy effected during the last quarter of a century. Prom
the sixteenth century onwards shorthand has had its English
inventors and improvers ; but prior to the publications of Mr.
Isaac Pitman it was a rude art, difficult to be proficiently
acquired, and untrustworthy at the best of times if the reading
was not aided by the still retentive memory. Gurney, Byrom,
Taylor, and Harding^s improved Taylor, were the best systems
in use ; the two latter being the most popular. It is easy to
learn to write these; but the reading of what is written, — ^in
that the art and mighty labour lies. One sometimes sees
advertisements of a system of shorthand, which is really
Taylor^s, and the promise that thereby ^ the nature of the art
can be acquired in six hours ^ is fair- seeming enough to those
who know nothing of the matter. But although the nature
of the art may be learned in six hours, the efficient practice
of it on that system requires an apprenticeship of six years.
Not 80 with Pitman's sound-hand, which is easier to be read
to be written, and for all practical purposes is beyond
Reporting and Reporters. 327
all comparison superior to any other system. Repori^ing
passed into a new era after the appearance of Pitman^s pho-
nography. A remarkable memory ceased to be of much
consequence, and the exercise of clever long-hand reporting
became Umited almost wholly to the writers of Parliamentary
summaries. Phonography has brought into the humbler ranksF
of journalism many hundreds who, but for it, would never
have been able to hold a place there, and has enabled news-
paper proprietors to obtain a rapid development of reporting
assistance at a time when, otherwise, the sudden extension of
the newspaper system consequent on the repeal of the taxes
on knowledge would have rendered such a supply absolutely
impossible. It has led, however, to some serious mistakes
and many ludicrous failures. A raw youth has no sooner got
its strokes, curves, and dots at his finger ends than he has
considered himself competent for reportership on the press ;
and whilst hundreds who have advanced thus far have vainly
waited year after year in the hope of obtaining an introduction
to the reporters' room, many who have secured the coveted
entree have soon discovered their utter and hopeless inade-
quacy for the function to which they have aspired. A tale is
told of a man of this class, who considered himself quite equal
to taking his turn in the House of Commons for the Times.
Accordingly, a longish 'take' was entrusted to him, and
with his book full of notes he returned to the Times office to
commence the transcription of his notes for the press. Mr.
Barnes, the then editor, asked him how much his take
amounted to ; and finding it was long, directed him to cut it
down by one-half. The reporter, dividing his book into two
halves with his finger, meekly asked the editor 'which half?'
So much simplicity, it is said, would not do for the Times ;
and the ambitious shorthand writer got no second trial.
Another story is told of a mere shorthand writer who took a
first turn in 'the House' for a London morning journal, but, on
returning to the office and seeing the other reporters driving
their quills with electric speed across the paper, the spectacle
of swift and skilful industry so alarmed him that he dis-
appeared, and was never seen in London afterwards. Bapid
speed in transcription is a great requisite in writing for the
newspapers. The duties of a shorthand writer are simple,
those of a reporter complex and manifold. The one has merely
to hear, note, and transcribe ; his services are required in
courts of law, arbitration rooms, and in other circumstances
where the ipsissima verba of a witness or a judge may
afterwards be required. This function, by long practice,
becomes chiefly mechanical; it is possible to take a very
828 Bepartmg and Reporters.
correct note of a long speech, and jet not be able to give, at
the end, more than a bad gness of what it waa abont.
In the case of the Government shorthand writers the task of
transcription is committed to other hands than those of the
note-taker. With the reporter, on the other hand, shorthand
is only an occasional reqalsite; mnch that he does caft be
effected withont it. Comparatively seldom is he required to
produce an exactly literal record of what was said ; indeed,
liowever important the oocasion, there are very few speakers
who can be reported verbatim withont damage to their reputa-
tion as composers of £ngUsh« Of course, at times, the power
to follow accurately a most rapid utterance with the pen is of
signal value to the reporter, who ought to be equal to eveiy
emergency.
We have alluded to the variety of the work fsdling to the
gentlemen of the press. There are, indeed, some whose office
it is to attend Parliamentary debates almost exclusively; but in
the provinces a first-class reporter is expected to discharge a
wide variety of duties ; and the major part of the profession
are all the fitter for their post in proportion as they resemble
Piyden^s Villiers :
A man so tbHous that be seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome ;
Who, in the course of one revolring moon.
Was statesman, fiddler, oonrtier, and buffoon.
Nothing in which the public at large is supposed to take
interest is out of his sphere. He may justly say, ' I am a
reporter : ^
* Nihil humani a me aliennm puto.'
The political or the philanthropic meeting, the complimentary
dinner, the flower show, or the agricultural show, would not go
on so well without him ; he attends at consecrations, ordina-
tions, and cricket matches ; he is busy at the hustings and
at the polling-booth; he lays every foundation stone, inau-
gurates everything, and sometimes rides to a conflagration on
a fire engine ; he visits churches, chapels, hotels, theatres,
law courts, inquests, racecourses, mines, regattas, executions ;
wherever fire, storm, and flood, wherever collision or explo-
sion work scenes of damage and woe, our reporter is imme-
diately upon the spot ; he attends the Royal progress, and
the exercises of the army ; the gala days and holidays of
other people bring only extra labour and anxiety to him. The
ublic at large know nothing of what is done in our courts of
except what the reporter communicates; and by his
pUDJJ
Reporting and Reporters. 829
statements upon men and things pnblic opinion is to no small
extent modified and formed. The occurrence of a moment
may change one of his quietest into one of his most busy days,
may upset the most carefully-revised arrangements, and defeat
his most cherished plans. He is no more able to predict
where he will be at a given time in advance, or to make a
private appointment that shall be binding, than is a fireman
or a medical man. By night or day he must sot off, by rail,
road, or river, in sunshine or in storm, with notice or with
none, replete or hungry, exhausted or refreshed, to the spot
where inquiries have to be made, events to be traced, or their
consequences to be discovered. He should be sound in wind
and limb, and have not only all his wits about him, but should
know how to avail himself of other people^s. He ought to bo
a man of general information ; deeply versed in anything he
can hardly be expected to be, but a Httle about everything he
should know by all means, so that he may never be at a loss
in his multifarious duties. The omne scihile is his domain ;
happy, if he can in any wise cover it, though only as a
smatterer, since no piece of knowledge can be so out-of-the-
way as not at some time in his career to give him an advan-
tage over his competitors. He is, or should be, a critic in
art, music, the drama, and literature ; and, of course, the
more he knows in each of these departments the more credit-'
able is his work likely to be. Of late years, it is true, the
expansion of the provincial press has necessitated much more
division of labour in reporting and criticising ; and with all
the dailies, the theatre, the concert room, the picture gallery,
and books, are now usually remitted to special hands. Yet the
general reporter is still all the more valuable in proportion
as he can operate, at least in an emergency, in every direction.
He should have faculty readily to divine the meaning as well
as to catch the words of a speaker, and, indeed, rather the
meaning than the words ; for the excellence of a report con-
sists in its fairly representing rather what the speaker meant
to say, and thought or hoped he did say, than what, in the
exigencies of the moment, he actually succeeded in saying.
In fact, the reporter should be able, where requisite, to mend
not only a halting and clumsy style, but also the very matter
of a speech; and where necessary, as most often it is, to
compress the gist of a verbose argument or the points of a
lengthy speech into a nutshell. Seeing, moreover, that the
law of libel is so defective as to fail to protect an honest
report of a public meeting, he should have enough legal
acumen to know how to keep on the safe side. He should be
possessed of some descriptive and narrative power ; and the
330 Reporting and Beporters.
more grammatical his training the better for the language^
which in oar day he, perhaps more than any one else, con-
tributes to form or to deform. Newspaper English, indeed,
so far as it comes from him, too ofcen presents symptoms of
debasement. He will, for instance, record how So-and-So
sustained serious injury — which, after all, the suflFerer proves
not to have sustained, seeing that, unhappily, he died under
it. He will substitute a barbarism like now-a-days for in our
days, and will sometimes drag in provincialisms to the utter
confusion of the sense. There is in a midland town a street
called the Pavement. A reporter we knew, in a paragraph
relating the exploits of a thief, astonished the reading
public of that town by stating that, having secured the booty,
the thief ' took up the Pavement, and disappeared ! * The
public might well fail to understand so subterraneous a pro-
cedure. Another paragraph writer of our acquaintance was
sadly apt to flounder in composition through a provoking
want of flexibility in his style. He was much teased by the
other reporters for having once told the world, through his
newspaper, that the legs of a poor man found dead on a lime-
kiln ' were discovered, being literally roasted by one of the
men.' Almost every newspaper report of inquest or accident
shews a slovenly misuse of the word ^ when.' ' The boiler
exploded, when three men were scalded,' writes the reporter,
although in truth the boiler burst not when the men were
scalded, but previous to their becoming so. Again, ' The
deceased ran away, when the intoxicated prisoner beat out
her brains with the poker.' On the contrary, the reporter
should have told us that the deceased ran away, and that
thereupon, or immediately afterwards, the prisoner beat out
her brains with the poker. But we must not expand here into
criticism. Eeporters' English is often written under very
high pressure, and amidst difficulties which make its occasional
incorrectness anything but surprising. In hunting out facts,
and disembarrassing them of the distortions, screens and dis-
guises superinduced by interested or stupid persons, the
reporter is sometimes called upon to exercise the cleverness
and astuteness of a detective. Discrimination, tact, patience,
and perseverance are all needed ; men must be known as well
as things. There must be, withal, physical courage to work
amidst danger, and moral courage to act impartially in
circumstances of bias, and sometimes not a little rectitude to
withhold the hand from the taking of bribes. That there
are many members of the profession who do not come up to
the fair standard is certain, but there are some who do ; and on
whole^ comparing the past with the present, the efficiency
Reporting a/nd Beparters. 331
and respectability of the gentlemen of tlie press seems to ns to
have improved of late years, and it is no longer a matter of
course, as it once almost was, that the reporter should be a
man whose tastes are low, and whose moral principles are
undiscoverable. It must be confessed that the nocturnal
habits, and the various uncertainties of occupation, which no
reporter can avoid, are unfavourable to the younger members
of the staflF, rendering unusually easy the fall into moral
scepticism and social irregularity. Temptations to drink
beset their path on all sides, and too often blight a promising
career. At public dinners it is frequently considered a mark
of proper attention to see that ^ the press ^ is supplied with
wine ; and moving amongst society of all grades, and travel-
ling from place to place, as reporters do, invitations to drink
recur again and again, and the necessities of their work often
throw reporters into hotels or make what the publican pro-
vides their readiest substitute for a meal. Many a situation
has been lost, many a downward career inaugurated, by a
glass of wine thoughtlessly imbibed at a public dinner, and so
operating on the brain as to make the reporter's note-taking
useless. In one case within our knowledge, the mingled
shame and despair consequent upon a dismissal so caused, led
to the perpetration of suicide. Independently of any other
consideration, the work of a reporter is one that requires the
full possession of all his faculties ; and if there is any class to
whom abstemiousness is more necessary than to others,
reporters ought assuredly to consider themselves therein. If
once accustomed to work upon alcoholic stimulus, the man
may be considered as lost. Thenceforward he can do nothing
without his dram or his glass ; and in the end he falls a sure
victim to an ever-increasing necessity for buying his working
efficiency with an unnatural stimulation.
The life of a reporter on an influential and enterprising
journal is fiill of incident, and this fact gives some compensa-
tion for the excessive labour he is at times called on to per-
form, in the opportunities it yields for making intimate
acquaintanceship with men and things. The reporter belongs
to a privileged order, and is to a certain extent behind the
scenes of society. He approaches the popular idols of the
day somewhat nearer than most people do, and in some cases,
it must be owned, this superior famiUarity results in con-
tempt. If he is not so easily excited by eloquence as others—
in that respect resembling the countryman who did not cry
at a touching sermon, because he belonged to another parish —
he has frequent opportunities of being roused by the presence
of danger. It is given to few to record death's doings on the
832 Reporting and Reporters,
•
battle field, like Dr. Russell ; but there has never been any
lack of men ready to step forward at the call of professional
duty, and risk to limb and life is run to an extent of which
few outside the profession are aware. We have known life
saved and property protected at imminent hazard by reporters
at a fire ; and have seen serious risks encountered for the
sake of obtaining information for the press. Of late years
signal service has been rendered to the public by newspaper
emissaries who have investigated the sanitary condition of our
large towns, and conducted inquiries into the nature, causes,
extent, and remedies of such wide-spread calamities as the
potato famine in Ireland, the cotton famine in Lancashire, and
the more recent mining distress in Cornwall. In not a few
of our teeming hives of industry or of enforced idleness, the
reporter has penetrated, regardless of his own danger, into
the inmost haunts of typhus and cholera, to make the public
acquainted with the plague-spots in their midst; and we have
known him receive the heartfelt thanks of poor people doomed
to dwell in such misery, because his exertions have shamed
dilatory authorities into grappling with their duty. It some-
times occurs at political gatherings that the reporters share
in the favours intended for the real dramatis personce. A
rotten egg, falling short of a candidate, is very likely to drop
in the reporters^ box ; and if there be a general row the
holders of pencils and note books must take care of them-
selves. One diminutive reporter of our acquaintance, on
account of the lowness of his stature suffered many indignities.
He was once thrown bodily over the front of a hustings by a
stalwart and excited coalheaver. We have heard an old
reporter tell how in his slimmer youth, his light weight and
small size obtained him admission to a post of duty other-
wise inaccessible. He was recognised by the densely packed
and impenetrable mob as the reporter for their favourite
journal, and was lifted up and actually allowed to walk all
across a large room upon their shoulders to his place on
the platform. The natural impulse of most people, on the
occasion of an election row, is to make off as speedily as pos-
sible, but a way of escape is not always open, and a reporter^
for his part, ought to be able to describe the scene. We
recollect how on one occasion half-a-dozen reporters stood
shoulder to shoulder at the declaration of the poll, and suc-
cessfully defended their box from the intrusion of a beer-
maddened crowd until the police arrived to their succour. We
have a vivid recollection of a meeting called in support of the
Irish Church about the time of the late general election, and
ending in a battle for the possession of the platform, wherein
Reporting and Reporters* 883
doctors of divinity^ aldermen, ministers of religion, and the
general public set to in earnest, and incidentally smashed the
reporters' table, chairs, forms, and their own hats, with
unparalleled alacrity and completeness. Nothing less than
the introduction of a poMse of policemen availed to restore
order.
The reminiscences of a reporter of experience and good
memory would contain many things that to the uninitiated
might savour too strongly of Munchausen. What would be
thought, for instance, of the statement that a town jury, find-
ing a prisoner guilty, recommended him to mercy because
they had ' some doubt as to his being the man 7 ' Yet that
verdict was given in our hearing. Prima fade it might seem
impossible that any man could make such blunders as now
and again creep into print. Where these are not due to the
influence of alcohol, much allowance should be made. The
reporter for the press has to do much of his work against
time. When an important meeting is likely to be long this is
provided against by sending a staff of two or more reporters ;
and in the Houses of Parliament relays of reporters succeed
each other as the time wears on, from the commencement of
the business to its close. At the best, however, the reporter
is expected to transcribe his report from his notes hurriedly,
often in a badly-lighted and much-jolting railway carriage,
sometimes in a post-chaise or a cab, and always when to a
certain extent his strength is lowered by his labours at the
meeting, or before. It is not wonderful, then, that blunders
are made; yet sometimes, it must be allowed, these are
inexcusable. It is to the printer, however, that many blunders
are due. Not long ago a west country reporter had occasion
to refer to the well-known passage in one of Mr. Gladstone's
finest speeches : ' We have burned our boats and destroyed
our bridges.' In a local paper, thanks to the printer, he was
made to say that the Premier informed the House that he had
burned his coats and destroyed his breeches. We have known
jokes of this kind foisted in by the compositor out of sheer
mischief. When drink exercises its influence the most absurd
results unintentionally follow, but in such cases they rarely
come before the public, thanks to the corrective care of the
oflScial reader for the press. We recollect one reporter who,
under the effects of champagne at a public dinner, found that
he could take notes with most delightful and unprecedented
facility, but unhappily discovered the decyphering of them to
be quite a different matter. Another, whose intellect had
been temporarily marred from a like cause, refused to write a
word of the speech of one of our greatest statesmen, on the
S34 Beporting and Reporters.
grotmd tliat it was of no consequence ! K it was not drink,
it was laziness and worse^ that actuated a reporter sent down
from a London daily to record the proceedings at the very
important trial of a public functionary not very long ago. He
remained at his hotel whilst the proceedings were in progress
from day to day, merely sending the ^ Boots ' to ascertain
that the court was sitting ! His reliance, of course, was on
the local papors, from which he copied punctually his own
* special report/ With the story of Mark Supple, one of the
early Parliamentary reporters, who electrified the House
during a luU in the proceedings by tipsily calling on 'Mishter
Shpeaker * for a song, most people are familiar. A story has
recently travelled from America, and if not true, may be
thought well invented. A reporter is said to hare stated of
a certain lecture that ^ it was a brilliant afiair. The hall ought
to have been filled^ but only forty persons were present. The
speaker commenced by saying that he was by birth an eccle-
siastical deduction ; and gave a learned description of Satan
and his skill in sawing trees. Among other things, he stated
that the patriarch Abraham taught Cecrops arithmetic.^ Next
day the lecturer wrote to say : ^ You have made some mis-
takes which I wish to correct. You make me speak of myself
as by birth an ecclesiastical deduction. What I said was, that
I was not by birth but only ecclesiastically a Dutchman.
Instead of speaking of Satan as sawing trees, I spoke of him
as sowing tares. I said nothing of Abraham, but spoke of the
Arabians as nomads of patriarchal simplicity; and said of
Cecrops that he was the founder of Athens, and instructed
the people in agriculture.^
Some things, considered rather 'smart,' might be chronicled
concerning reporters, especially in regard to the rivalry
between difierent newspapers in obtaining early or exclusive
information. But the extension of telegraphy has done much,
and the consequent associated press system will do more, in
putting an end to contests of this kind, except for matters of
merely local importance. In days of yore, when £arl, then Lord
John, Russell was member for North Devon, a renowned race
took place from Exeter to London, with reports of one of his
speeches, between Mr. Dickens, then a reporter for the
Morning Chronicle , and a gentleman still on the staff of the
Times. Both posted, but on the way Mr. Dickens gave the
slip to his friend, who rode quietly along imagining that he
was in advance instead of in the rear, and did not discover
his error until he saw the speech in the Chronicle. Oc-
casionally such rivalries resulted in what is called ' sharp
practice,' which means out-and-out roguery, but for the
Reporting and Reporters, 835
most part they were, and, where necessary to be carried
on, still are conducted with fair play and in good humour.
We do not adduce it as an instance of correct conduct, but we
have heard of the exploit of a reporter who had attended a
meeting far away from home, and who, having left in good
time to catch the return train, found to his dismay that the
representative of an opposition paper had by remaining a few
minutes later obtained the speech of a gentleman of some
position. What was to be done ? Personally as well as pro-
fessionally he did not like to be beaten ; so, being well
acquainted with the style of the speaker, whom he had heard
upon the same subject before, he resolved to write a speech
for him, and actually produced what proved to be about as good
a report as his rivaPs. We knew a clever but wayward youth,
son of the editor of a provincial newspaper, who, on an occa-
sion of unusual interest, gratuitously invented a long speech
for the clerk to a board of guardians, whose indignation on
seeing it in print may be imagined. Sometimes reporters have
even amused themselves by kindly supplying inventions of this
kind to some unsuspecting brother of the press whom accident
or necessity has prevented from arriving at the commencement
of the proceedings. But jokes of this class are, of course, too
serious in their consequences to be often attempted. A
reporter who is gifted with ready sources enjoys manifold
Advantages over his less quick-witted brethren. One of the
most annoying instances that occurs to us of the want of pre-
sence of mind on the part of a reporter happened at a boat-
race in the North, whither a reporter had been despatched on
horseback to bring back the name of the winner. He saw the
first boat reach the goal, and galloped home at full speed, but
when asked who had won, was only able to say that although
he had seen the boat pass he had forgotten to inquire its name.
There are few old reporters ; either they melt away through
dissipation or they subside into some less active occupation.
Many reporters have risen to eminence in other professions,
•and especially have some of them made the gallery in the
House of Commons the stepping-stone to the bar, the bench,
and even the woolsack. Of one quondam Parliamentary
reporter who had left the gallery for the floor of the House of
Commons, his erewhile associates were wont to say spitefully
that he was not fit for a reporter, and therefore had been made
a member. In the ranks of journalism itself, the transition
from the composing room to the reporters^ office, and thence
to the editor's chair, has been frequently achieved.
Our sketch of reporting and reporters would be incomplete
did it not contain some reference to the casual reporters^
386 The Contagious Diseases Ads.
popularly known as 'penny-a-linera' — though that epithet by
no means exactly indicates their scale of remuneration. They
are, to the regularly attached staff of a journal, very much
what skirmishers are to the main body of an army; or perhaps
they may be more aptly described as the guerillas of the press.
It is their business to pick up whatever item of unexpected
or stray news they can secure, and forward it with all speed
to the journals to which they think it will be acceptable;
and, as they are paid according to the quantity used, their
habit is to inflate and enlarge, by every device of roundabout
phraseology, the material at their command. If the ' liner '
can get his ' copy ^ into four or five journals he is well paid,
and several of the fraternity, with good connections of this
kind, make an excellent living out of it. The 'copy' the
'liner' supplies is technically kncA^n as 'flimsey,' being
written in manifold on tissue paper, with the help of sheets of
carbonised transferring paper, commonly known as ' blacks.'
Occasionally, when news is scarce, the ' finer ' is suspected of
indulging in sheer invention, and a few years ago one made
much profit, for a short time, out of an imaginary conference
between Italian patriots, the reports of whose proceedings
wore published day by day in the metropolitan newspapers,
until the cheat was discovered. Such cases as these, however,
are very rare. The certainty of their detection happily
renders the reporter's production of such stuff an act of pro-
fessional suicide.
THE CONTAGIOUS DISEASES ACTS.
IT is one of the ' things not generally known' that there
(exists on the statute book of this country, thanks to
oflicialfl connected with the War Office and the Admiralty, 'An
Act for the better Prevention of Contagious Diseases at certain
Naval and Military Stations,' supplemented with 'An Act to
Ainoii J' the said Contagious Diseases Act. What is perhaps
evon yot more important is the fact that there exists an associa-
tion lor the further extension of the application of these
cna<^tmonts. Wo propose to inquire briefly, in the following
nrticio, into the character of these Acts, and to recite some
j^OMons against their proposed extension.
first of all, we have to report that the Contagious.
The Contagious Diseases Acts. 837
Diseases Act^ surprising thongli this may seem to the public
at large^ has nothing whatever to do with cattle. Had it been
called the Disgraceful Diseases Act^ that would have been
straightforward, but it might also have been alarming. The
association engaged in promotion of the system is little dis-
posed to lose ground through lack of cautiousness, or of skill
in entitling. The Shameful Diseases Act would, perhaps^
scarcely have been smuggled through Parliament under any
such name. Curiosity was kept fast asleep by the use of less
precise, and therefore more convenient nomenclature.
The Contagious Diseases Act, as existing prior to last
session, was the sequel and successor to a previous Act^
passed by Parliament in 1864. Two years afterwards that
Act was repealed, but only that this larger and more stringent
law might stand in its place. It bears date 11th June, 18G6,
and forms the 35th chapter of the statutes of the 29th of
Victoria. Two successive blows of the mallet were thus
applied to the wedge, of which the thin end is now fixed in
the legislation of this country ; and yet a third blow was
dealt last session. The advocates of this peculiar legislation
succeeded last year in passing their third bill, as ' An Act to
amend the Contagious Diseases Act, 1866,^ bearing date
August 1 1th, 1869, and standing as chapter 96 of the 32nd and
33rd of Victoria. By this extension they effected several
modifications in the details of the law, and they enlarged
the territorial area of its application. The Act of 1866 applied
to twelve districts — Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Devonport,
Woolwich, Chatham, Sheemess, Aldershot, Windsor, Col-
cheater, Shorncliffe, The Curragh, Cork, and Queenstown. The
amendment Act extended the application of this legislation to
six other districts — Canterbury, Dover, Gravesend, Maidstone,
Southampton, and Winchester, besides enlarging the boun-
daries of some of the twelve. Thus to Colchester were added
the outlying parishes of St. Andrew's, Greenstead; Lexden;
and St. Michael's, Mile End. To Plymouth and Devonpori
were joined on Ivy Bridge; the parishes of Plympton St.
Maurice and Plympton St. Mary; and Dartmouth. To Sheer-
ness was appended the Isle of Grain. To Shorncliffe were
added Walmer, Deal, Sholden, Mongeham, Ringwold, and
Eipple. To Windsor — Datchet and Upton. And to Wool-
wich— St. Paul and Sfc. Nicholas, Deptford; the hamlet of
Hatcham ; and St. Alphage, Greenwich. Moreover, the radius
of five miles around all these districts was increased to fifteen.
It is no secret that the object of the promoters is ultimately
to bring the whole nation under the provisions of this Act,
wind and weather permitting. The opponents of the Act, who
Vol. 12.— No. 48. w
838 The Contagious Diseases Acts,
are likely to become many as soon as its natnre sliall be
generally known, are bestirring themselves busily in London,
Nottingham, Bristol, and elsewhere, to make the wind of
public opinion contrary, and to turn the weather into a storm.
Before proceeding further we may allude to the fact that
the question, whether or not this Contagious Diseases Act
should be extended to the civil population, was discussed in
the Health Department of the Social Science Association at
its latest congress. Much excitement was manifested in the
proceedings of the day, and a rare warmth was infused into
the debate. Mr. W. P. Swain and Mr. Berkeley Hill read
papers in favour of the measure, and were supported by Mr.
T. Woolcombe (chairman of the Royal Albert Hospital), Mr.
P. H. Holland, Mr. D. Davies, Dr. Symonds, and others ; but
were opposed by a numerous body, including Dr. Charles
Taylor, the Rev. W. Arthur, Professor Newman, Mr. R.
Charleton, Mr. T. Worth, and other more or less well-known
clergymen or philanthropists. A resolution adverse to the
Act was moved by the Rev. W. Arthur, and seconded by
Professor Newman ; a cautious amendment to this was moved
— ^the reporter does not say by whom — approving of the Act
as existing, but adding that the time had not arrived for an
extension of it to the civil population. When the time came
for the vote great disturbance ensued. The amendment was
lost, as also was a more straightforward one, moved by Mr.
Davies and seconded by Dr. Beddoe, bluntly approving of
the proposed extension of the Act. Finally, the original
resolution was carried. The correspondent of the Times gave
the following partisan description of the scene : —
* There then followed a scene of great confusion and disorder. A large number
of persons, many of them apparently clergymen, had come to the meeting for the
express purpose of protesting against the Act. In debate the adyocates on both
aides waxed warm, and the enthusiasm of those who fancied they saw in physical
disease a Diyine judgment against moral transgression was obviously much in the
ascendant over the calmer views of more reasonable men. Excited gentlemen, in
white cravats, surged tumultuously over the benches, vociferated, half-a-dozen at
oncei set the chairman to rights about his ruling on points of order, and loudly
applauded whatever seemed to tell in favour of their views. At length, after a
time probably without parallel in the history of Science Congresses, and, after
resolutions and amendments had been put and stormed over, a resolution in
opposition to the extension of the Act was carried by about two to one in a
meeting of rather more than one hundred. The proceedings were, of course, not
of a character to give weight to tlie decision of the assembly or to increase the
value set by sober-minded men upon the action of the association itself.* ^
We cannot but note here how very apparent is the bias of the
reporter, although we are not prepared to doubt that a state
of mind far from judicial was shown by some of the opponents
of the Act. Indeed, in some of their publications there is
The Contagious Diseases Acts. 339
a vehemence of excitement that positively tends to prejudice
men of calm judgment against their cause. Their arguments,
we must say, would tell more powerfully if they were urged
with less of a shriek.
The opponents of this kind of legislation adduce a variety
of considerations. We cannot say that these are always in
harmony with each other. The best of the earlier series of
arguments against it were advanced in a report on the operation
of the Contagious Diseases Act, presented by John Simon,
F.R.S. and F.R.C.S., and surgeon to St. Thomases Hospital,
and were printed in the Blue Book containing the eleventh
annual report of the medical oflScer to the Lords of Her
Majesfcy^s Privy Council. Probably the most energetic
individual agitator against the Acts is Mr. Worth, a surgeon
and member of the board of guardians, at Nottingham, and
author of several pamphlets on the subject. A brochure^
entitled ' The Remedy Worse than the Disease,' lies before us,
published by the Society for the Rescue of Young Women
and Children, 85, Queen-street, Cheapside, London, and
entering a very strong protest ' against legislative measures
for the regulation (and tending to the encouragement) of
prostitution, as exemplified in the provisions and working of
the Contagious Diseases Act, 1866.' Mrs. Hume Rothery, a
daughter of the celebrated Joseph Hume of Parliamentary
memory, has written letters protestant, as also have Professor
F. W. Newman, Mr. Robert Charleton, sundry other
philanthropists, and several ministers of religion. Professor
Newman, besides letters in the Anti-Vaccinator, has written,
on the whole, the most powerful remonstrance against the new
legislation that we have seen. It is entitled ' the Cure of the
Great Social Evil,^ and is published in London by Triibner &
Co. It dea/ls at large with the question of incontinence, and
suggests a variety of preventive and deterrent measures. We
do not in all the details agree with Mr. Newman's observations.
There are certain physiological and pyschological facts that ho
ignores. It is a deplorable fact, for instance, that by early
and long indulgence in impure acts and imaginations, one may
utterly cease to possess that 'gift of continence' which is
originally at the command of almost all. We say almost all,
because, again, it is a deplorable fact that some few are so
weighed down by the sins of an impure ancestry — ^in short, so
dreadfully animal in their very constitution, with so little
intellect and moral sense to counteract, that the appetite is as
imperious and irresistible as hunger or thirst. For these, on
the whole, St. Paul's advice is the best in spite of Mr. New-
man's protest against it^ and notwithstanding one's pity for
840 The Contagious Diseases Ads.
the wives. But in the main^ Mr. Newman treats the snbjecfe
so admirably that we cannot but recommend his pamphlet for
the widest possible distribution. The ' National Anti-Con-
tagious Diseases Act (Extension) Association ' is excellent in
everything except its name. Existence would be a much better
word than extension, if a word there were really necessary.
This association has published a variety of documents, a list of
which will no doubt be gladly forwarded to any inquirer by Mr.
Robert Charleton, of Abbey Down, Bristol, to whom, as
treasurer of the society, subscriptions may be sent. In one
of his letters. Professor Newman accounts for the passing of
the Acts, by stating that ' certain physicians have the ear of
the Privy Council and indoctrinate it. The Privy Council
moves the ministry — ^if it be not quite the same body—
and the whispers of the ministry carry the doctors' bill
through Parliament. The newspapers (I conjecture) think the
subject too disgusting to argue, and therefore are silent.
Thus we are under an insidious despotism.' The silence of
the newspapers whilst the subject was before Parliament was
certainly remarkable. The reporters appear to have unani-
mously agreed not to report — their bias, we suppose, being
in favour of the Act, and their belief being great in the safe-
ness of the policy of letting the public know as little as
possible about it.
We come now to examine what is the precise nature of the
Contagious Diseases Act of 1 866. And to put our readers in
possession of the facts, we think it best to give a copious
summary of this remarkable enactment. The first three
sections relate to the interpretation of terms, the fixing of
time for commencement of operations, and the repeal of the
previous enactment. The fourth defines the places wherein the
Act is to operate ; and the fifth directs the expenses of the
Act to be defrayed by the Admiralty and the Secretary of
State for War out of money to be provided by Parliament.
Visiting surgeons and assistant- surgeons are to be appointed
according to section 6, by the War Office or the Admiralty;
and under section" 7, inspectors and assistant-inspectors of
certified hospitals are to be similarly appointed. Power to
provide and certify hospitals is given in sections 8 and 9; and
by subsequent sections the inspection of certified hospitals
and power to withdraw certificates are arranged for. In
section 12 the certification of hospitals is made to depend on
'adequate provision' being made for the 'moral and religious
instruction ' of the women detained there under this Act.
Very adroitly, and with velvet skill is this, the first mention
of the women, wrapped up with their moral and religious
The Contagious Diseases Acts. 841
instruction. Moral and religious improvement of women who,
under this very Act, are treated like beasts in order to-
guarantee them clean for the future use of the fornicator !
The management of certified hospitals is left, by section
14, in the hands of the hospital managers, subject to the
approval of all their regulations by the Admiralty or War
Office, as far as regards women authorised by this Act to be
detained therein for medical treatment, or being therein under
medical treatment for a contagious disease. It is not till we
come to the 15th section that we reach the marrow of the
Act of 1866; and, although this has been repealed, it will be
well to reproduce this in conjunction with the next section
verbatim :—
'Periodical Medical ExAMiifATioifs.
' 15. When an information on oath is laid before a justice bj a saperintendent of
police, charging to the effect that the informant has good cause to beliere that a
woman therein named is a common prostitute, and either is resident within the
limits of any place to which this Act applies, or, being resident within fire miles
of those limits, has, within fourteen dajs before the laying of the information,
been within these limits for the purpose of prostitution, the justice may, if he
thinks fit, issue a notice thereof, addressed to such woman, which notice the
■uperintendent of police shaU cause to be serred on her.
' Provided that nothing in this Act contained shall apply or extend, in the case
of Woolwich, to any woman who is not resident witnin one of the parishes of
Woolwich, Plumstead, or Charlton.
' 16. In either of the following cases, namely ; — If the woman on whom such a
notice is served appears herself, or by some person on hor behalf, at ther time and
place appointed in the notice, or at some other time and place appointed by
adjournment ;
' If she does not so appear, and it is shown (on oath) to the justice present that
the notice was served on ner a reasonable time before the time appointed for her
appearance, or that reasonable notice of such adjournment was given to her (as the
case may be), the justice present, on oath being made before him substantiating
the matter of the information to his satisfaction, may, if he thinks fit, order that
the woman be subject to a periodical medical examination by the visiting surgeon
for any period not exceeding one year, for the purpose of ascertaining at the time
of each such examination whether she is affected with a contagious disease ; and
thereupon she shall be subject to such a periodical medical examination, and the
order shall be a sufficient warrant for the visiting surgeon to conduct such
examination accordingly.
' The order shall specify the time and place at which the woman shall attend for
the first examination.
' The superintendent of police shall cause n copy of the order to be served on
the woman.'
In section 17, any woman within the limits of the Act may
voluntarily, by a submission in writing, signed by her in the
presence of and attested by the superintendent of police,
Bubject herself to a periodical medical examination for any
period not exceeding one year. In the following section
power is given to the War Office or the Admiralty to make
regulations as to time, place, and manner of examination ; and
in section 19 the visiting surgeon is empowered to prescribe
842 2%e Contagious Diseases Ads.
times and places at which the examinee is required to attend
again for examination. If any woman so examined proves to
be 'aflfected with a contagious disease/ she is rendered liable,
in section 20, to be detained in a certified hospital, subject
and according to the provisions of this Act, at the choice of
the visiting surgeon.
^ 21. Any woman, to whom anj such certificate of the Tisiting sqrgeon relates,
<x»7, if she thinks fit, proceed to the certified hospital named in that certificate,
^nd place herself there for medical treatment, but if, after the certificate is
delivered to her, she neglects or refuses to do so, the superintendent of police, or
.-« constable acting under his orders, shall apprehend her, and convey her with all
practicable speed to that hospital, and place her there for medical treatment, and
^he certificate of the visiting surgeon shall be a sufficient authority to him for so
•doing.'
The detention in the hospital is made, by section 22, ter-
minable by written order of the chief medical officer of the
iospital; but by the next section the inspector of certified
liospitals may, if expedient, direct the transfer of any detained
woman from one hospital to another ; and by section 24 the
detention under any one certificate is limited to three months,
unless the chief medical officer of the hospital and either the
inspector of certified hospitals or the visiting surgeon for the
place whence she came, conjointly certify that further detention
is requisite, in which case the term may be extended for three
months longer. Section 25 gives any woman in a hospital
who considers herself well, power to appeal to a justice of the
peace, who, 'if he is satisfied, upon reasonable evidence, that
she is free from a contagious disease, shall discharge her from
such hospital.' Section 26 places in legal custody every
woman whilst being conveyed or transferred under this Act,
even though it be from one jurisdiction to another. Section 27
entitles every woman, on discharge from the hospital, to be
sent to the place of her residence, free of cost. The next
clause, being a penal one, will be best quoted in full : —
* 28. In the following cases, namely, —
'If any woman, subjected by order of a justice under this Act to periodical
medical examination, at anytime temporarily absents herself in order to aroid
submitting herself to such examination, on any occasion on which she ought so to
submit herself, or refuses or wilfully neglects to submit herself to such examinatioa
on any such occasion ;
' If any woman authorised by this Act to be detnined in a certified hospital for
. medical treatment, quits the hospital without being discharged therefrom by the
chief medical officer thereof by writing under his hand (the proof whereof ahall
lie on the accused) ;
' If any woman authorised by this Act to be detained in a certified hospital for
medical treatment, or any woman being in a certified hospital under medical
treatment for a contagious disease, refuses or wilfully neglects, while in the
hospital, to conform to the regulations thereof approved under this Act;
' Then, and in erery such case, such woman shall be guilty of an offence agaioft
The Contagious Diseases Acts. 343
ibis Act, and, on Buramary conviction, shall be liable to impriBonment, with or
without hard labour, in the case of a first offence for anj term not exceeding one
month, and in the case of a second or anj subsequent offence for any term not
exceeding three months ; and in the case of the offence of quitting the hospital
without being discharged as aforesaid, the woman may be taken into custody^
without warrant, by any constable/
The 29th section enacts that imprisonment for the 'offence'
of non- submittal to examination shall not free the woman
from the liability to be examined under which she lay prior to
the ' offence/ unless she be certified as sound ; and the 30th
section provides that imprisonment for the 'offence' of quitting
a hospital without being discharged, or of refusing or neglect-
ing while in a hospital to conform to the regulations, shall not
free her from liability to return to the hospital, but that she
shall be sent back to that place on expiry of her imprisonment
unless she be certified as cured. The 31st section imposes
penalty of imprisonment on any woman discharged uncured,
who 'is afterwards in any place /or the purpose of prostitution/
By the 32nd, every order subjecting a woman to examination
is made to operate ' as long as and whenever, from time to
time, the woman % whom it relates is resident within the
limits of the place to which this Act applies wherein the order
was made, or within five miles of these limits, but not in any
case for a longer period than one year,' nor longer than she
remains uncertified as cured. The next three sections profess
to give ' Relief from Examination/ They provide that if
any woman, not being under detention in a hospital, desires
to be relieved from examination to which she had been sub-
jected, she may apply in writing to a justice, who shall appoint
time and place for hearing the application ; and if then it be
shown 'to the satisfaction of a justice' that the applicant
has ceased to be a common prostitute, or if the applicant be
bound in a recognisance, with or without sureties, as
it may please the justice, for good behaviour during three
months, she shall be relieved from examination, but such relief
shall cease ' if at any time the woman is found in any public
thoroughfare, street, or place for the purpose of prostitution,
or otherwise conducts herself as a common prostitute,' within
the limits of the Act's operation. Penalties for harbouring
any woman believed, on ' reasonable cause,' to be a common
prostitute affected with a contagious disease, are provided in
section 36. The remaining sections regulate the form of
procedure under the Act; amongst other things they provide,
in section 37, that the justice's court in which proceedings
are taken against or by a woman of this class shall, ' unless
the woman so desires,' be a secret court with closed doord.
In section 40 it is enacted that any document purporting to
844 The Contagious Diseases Ads.
bo signed by any official, whether legal, medical, hospital, or
police, shall be taken as genuine unless proved to be otherwise,
proof of the otherwise being thrown on the unfortunate
woman, who may thus actually be convicted with a piece of
forged paper unless she is in a position to prove the forgery !
The last section in the Act — No. 42 — is intended to fortify
any one putting this Act in motion against a woman
from being inconvenienced by action-at-law in consequence.
Thus no action may be brought against him except in the
county where, and within three months after, the thing was
done ; nor shall the plaintiff succeed in the action if sufficient
amends bo made before the action is brought, or a sufficient
Bum paid into court after the action is brought, by or on behalf
of the defendant. The equity prevailing in the breasts of the
concocters of this law is illustrated by the provisions that if
the plaintiff fails in the action, or is nonsuited, or dropd it, the
defendant shall have full costs, as between attorney and client,
no discretion being given to the judge ; but that if the plaintiff
succeeds in the action the defendant shall pay no costs, unless
the judge certifies his approbation of the action.
Such, in brief, is the nature of the Contagious Diseases Act
of 1866. We will now see how far it is modified by the
Amendment Act of last session. In this, power is given, in
section 3, to the surgeon to detain the woman five days before
examining her, if she is ' found by him to be in such a condi-
tion that he cannot properly examine her,^ and if he 'has
reasonable grounds for believing that she is affected with
a contagious disease.' If the drunkenness of the woman
was the cause of the difficulty, she may be detained for
twenty-four hours in any usual lockup. Section 4 repeals
section 15 of the previous Act, and in its place substitutes
the following: — •
* Where an inforniation on oath is laid before a justice by a aaperintendent
of police, charging to the effect tliat the informant has good cause to beliere that a
woman therein named is a common prostitute, and either is resident within the
limita of any place to \(hieh this Act applies, or, being resident within tea miles
of those limits, or having no settled place of abode, has, within fourteen days
before the layinf^ of the information, either been witliin those limits for the
purpose of prostitution, or been outside of those limits for the purposes of
prostitution m the company of men resident within those limits, the justice may,,
if he thinks fit, issue a notice thereof addressed to such woman, which notice the
superintendent of police sliall cause to be served on her:
* Provided that nothing in the Contagious Diseases Act, 1806 to 1869, shall
extend, in the case of Woolwicli, to anv woman who is not resident within the
limits speoifiiHl in the fir>t schedule to tlus Act.
*Soctu>n ir» of the princiixil Act is hereby repealed, and the foregoing
enactment in this section is substituted for it; provided that all proceedings taken
and acts done under the section hereby repealed shall, notwithstanding, remain of
full efftvt, and sliall, if necessary, be continued as if they had been taken and done
under this section.'
The Contagious Diseases Acts. 84f5
The next section substitutes for the limit of five miles fixed
in section 32 of the previous Act, an extension to ten miles.
In section 6, a woman's voluntary submission to periodical
examination is made to have all the effect of a justice's order,
and to bring her within scope of all the penalties if she repents
of her voluntary submission. The six months named in sec-
tion 24) of the previous Act are extended to nine months in
section 7 of the new Act ; ' so, nevertheless, that any woman
be not detained under one certificate for a longer time in the
whole than nine months/ The final custody of orders of dis-
charge is given, in section 8, to the superintendent of police.
Bj section 9, a woman, not in a hospital, craving relief from
examination, may apply to the visiting surgeon, who shall then
communicate with the superintendent of police, who, if
satisfied by the surgeon's report or other evidence that the
applicant has ceased to be a common prostitute, shall have
power to relieve from examination. This section, in connection
with sections 33, 34, and 35 of the prior Act, gives the alter-
native of application for relief either to a justice or to the
visiting surgeon. Section 10 substitutes a new schedule for
the one defining the places to which the two Acts apply ; and
thereby extends the incidence of the provisions of the Act to
the extra districts which we have already named. Section 11
provides new forms of certificates, orders, and other instru-
ments, instead of those in the former Act. Carrying out these
two changes, the 4th and 38th sections of the principal Act,
and the two schedules to that Act, are repealed in section 12,
A concluding section provides for the settlement of a child
bom of a woman whilst detained in a hospital.
Such being the provisions of this remarkable piece of
legislation, we will now consider briefly some of the objections
that may reasonably be brought against it.
A very rapid glance at this new law reveals its exceedingly
one-sided character, as relates to the two sexes. AH its
artillery is pointed at the woman. The man, though equally
dangerous to the public health, is let off scot free. But
since the object of the law is to annihilate, as far as may
be done, certain diseases, this is obviously defeated so long
as only one sex is dealt with. In order to be efficient, it
should subject the man to be examined as well as the woman;
and it should do this, no less, in order to be equitable as
between woman and man. A man who goes about infecting
women is as dangerous as a woman infecting men. If the law
provided that not only every woman but every man when sus-
pected of prostitution, or found in the society of prostitutes,
should be subjected to examination by force, and imprisoned
346 The Ocmiagious Diseases Acts.
in hospital if found diseased^ we should be able to recognise
so far its fairness. We may be certain that had the female
suffrage had its fair share in this legislation^ men would not
have been permitted to be thus monstrously unjust to the
weaker sex. It is a man^s enactment, and is, we are sorry to
say, for its radical injustice, disgraceful to our own sex by
which it was made law.
A second objection to it is, that it subjects women to the
examination, not of a jury of matrons, nor of a medical prac-
titioner of their own sex, but to that of a person or persons of
the opposite sex. It thus gives forcible extension to the
purely modem and very unfortunate and objectionable practice
of man-midwifery. Future generations will lift up their hands
in astonishment at the needless and barbarous indelicacy of
their ancestors of the nineteenth century. They will affirm
that men have no more fitness for treating the special diseases
of women than women have for treating the special diseases
of men. Evidently the impropriety is equal in both cases, and
if women must be dragged out of the streets or their own
houses to be submitted to a distressing and disgusting exa-
mination, the examiners should certainly be persons of their
own sex.
A third objection to the new law is, that it must enormously
increase the demand for hospital accommodation — a very
serious matter to the public at large, by whom the money
would require to be found. The Association for Promoting
•the Extension of the Contagious Diseases Acts to the Civil
Population of the United Kingdom contends ' that sufferers
under any kind of contagious disease are dangerous members
of society, and should, so long as they are in this state, be
prevented from communicating it to others ; * ' that common
prostitutes should be subject to a compulsory medical exa-
mination and to compulsory detention in hospital as often as
they are found diseased and as long as they continue so ; ' and
' that for the reception of prostitutes suffering from venereal
disease, hospital accommodation should be provided in all towns
where such persons congregate.' Mr. Simon points out that the
plan would require for London alone, if there be in it only
half the prostitution and disease affirmed by the association
to exist, the erection and maintenance of new hospital
accommodation nearly equal to what is now given by the
twelve general hospitals of London for all bodily diseases put
together. The charge of maintaining such hospitals in
London alone would probably be at least £100,000 per annum;
and their construction would probably represent a first cost
little short of half a million of money. And besides this.
The Contagious diseases Acts. 347
increased police arrangements would have to be paid for
heavily, and the medical inspectors must be handsomely pro-
vided for. Mr. Simon very forcibly puts the difficulty of
providing for such an expenditure :—
' Demands like the abore are eridentlj not likely to be met bj voluntary contri-
butions. The result, if to be got at all, can only be got under action of law ; and
any such law, whether empowering the central GK)remment to defray expenses out
of proceeds of general taxation, or empowering municipalities to assign local funds
for the purpose, is, of course, in relating to minorities, compulsoir. Now, it is
^uite certain that, rightly or wrongly the proposed appropriation oi money would,
in the eyes of rery large numbers of persons, be to the last degree odious and
immoral. In rnost municipal constituencies^ there are swarms of persons who
already find it no easy matter to satisfy the collectors of raie^ and taxes ; they would
see the prostitute Jcept in the hospital at their expense for weeks or mtmths, not
necessarily from the exigencies of severe illness of her oivn, but essentially that she
might be made clean for hire^ lest any of her users should catch disease from her ;
they would remember in contrast that Jor themselves wonderfully little is done by
authority to protect them against adulterations of food, or against, false weights and
measures; and they might regard it as a strange caprice of law which should oblige
them to contribute to the cost of giving an artificial security to their neighbowre
looseness of life. It seems to me very important to measure beforehand the degree
in which such arguments would be ralid, or rather to consider on what principles
(if any) the proposed intervention of law is to be justified.'
We find in the pamphlets before us, many allusions to these
contagious diseases as being God^s punishment for sin^
whence is argued the impropriety of attempting to prevent
them. With this doctrine we are unable to agree. In the
first place, it is obvious that if it were wrong to prevent, it
would also be wrong to cure. If this were really the punish-
ment which God provides for the sin of incontinence, the
sinners condemned to it ought to be left to suffer under it
till God releases them, and physicians would have no business
to try to interfere with the amount or duration of the punish-
ment. But none of those who call these diseases God's punishF-
ment for sin, object to endeavour to alleviate or cure them after
they have been contracted. Their logic, therefore, is lame ; and
unless they are prepared to protest against curative measures^
they have no right to object, on the ground of Divine punish-
ment, against otherwise unobjectionable preventive ones.
In the second place, if these diseases were really God's
punishment for this sin, then to attempt either to prevent or
cure them by sanitary law or medical skill would be alike
impertinent and vain. Stultification is not predicable of the
Divine Providence, nor defeat of the Divine law. If it were
true that these diseases are the penalties divinely inflicted on
moral iniquity, it would not be wrong to interfere with their in-
cidence, only because it would not be possible. Men must 'get
up very early ' to outwit God. When the Almighty appoints a
punishment for sin. He looks after the infliction of that penalty;
848 The Contagious Diseases Acts,
He speaks, and it is done. In every case of transgression the
punishment falls, and inevitably; but it falls upon the soul,
not upon the body of the sinner. There it is that he receives
within himself that reward of disobedience which is meet.
Loss of mental purity, pollution of wish and thought, increased
force of sinful propensity, consequent approximation of soul to
infernal forms of existence, augmented diflSculty in approaching
heaven or in appreciating things heavenly, — these constitute,
under different names, the only really divine punishment of
Bin. In the very act of moral transgression the sentence is
pronounced, the sin is visited, the punishment falls ; and this
can no more be dodged or evaded than God can be mocked,
or than a man can fail to be judged according to his works.
But physical disease is largely evitable, and offers a high
premium to cleverness in avoiding it, as well as being suscep-
tible, more or less, of physical cure. That it is no divine
penalty for sin is evident from the fact that cunning can evade
it. With certain precautions, infection is avoidable, and that,
too, in cases wherein the guilt may be doubly heinous. The
frequent and flagitious sinner may cleverly insure himself,
whilst the alleged penalty, in its severest and most loathsome
manifestations, may fall on a first and only transgression.
The disease comes, a consequence of not knowing, or of
carelessly rejecting, feasible physical precautions. If we be
atill more desperately wicked than the common fornicator;
' having waste ground enough ' with him, if we be so far evil
beyond him as to 'rase the sanctuary and pitch our evils there,'
we may even altogether escape in still more wicked seduction
the morbid liabilities of wicked prostitution. This alleged
penalty may even impinge on the most careful and the most
innocent, through the folly of progenitors, or the untoward
accidents of medical practice, or of unhappy matrimonial
relationship. These diseases come as scarlet fever or as
Bmall pox comes, because the physical laws of health have
been violated, first in those amongst whose filth the disease
originated, and subsequently in persons to whom the infection,
with or without fault of theirs, may have been accidentally
conveyed. A blind undiscriminating penalty like this, that
goes blundering about, hit or miss, that hurts the innocent
and that can be made a fool of by the guilty, has in it none
of the characteristics of Divine retribution.
We do not affirm that there is therefore no connection
between these diseases and the penalty of sin. What has
been taught from very ancient times, that the entrance and
increase of physical disease in the world has some inherent
relationship with sin as its occult cause, is not proved to be
The Contagions Diseases Acts. 849
nntrue. The fact is^ althougli these diseases are not the real
penalties of lechery, they are yet vivid pictures of that real
penalty, painted on skin and in flesh and blood. Rightly
regarded, a wretched creature, deeply tainted, half eaten up by
the sores and rottenness of syphilis, is God's occasional and
physical picture to warn us of what ravages a certain sin actually
and invariably works in the human spirit when, by long and
unrepented practice, we make it inveterate. Just so is its
hideous aspect to all discerners of spirits. Just as deplorable
a spectacle, sore for sore, corruption for corruption, is the
voluptuary's soul in the sight of the angels and of Grod.
The case indeed is similar with all sorts of diseases. They
are occasional warning pictures of the various maladies of
the human spirit, in its diSerent degrees of departure from
sanity and God. They come, not in retribution of this or
that man's sin, or his parents', but that the power of God (in
its retributive action on all sinning souls) may be made
(bodily) manifest (or be pictured forth) in him. Hence in
the Gospels the display of power to heal physical disease is
said to be exercised ' that ye may know that the Son of Man
hath power to forgive sins ; ' — that is, in healing the sick
spirit, just as that effect is depictured in healing the
sick body. But if the occurrence of the physical malady
had been made to be not occasional, but necessarily coincident
with that of the spiritual disease, the physical would have
lost its character as mere picture, and would have become
indistinguishable from the real penalty in the morbid soul.
There are other and deeper reasons, besides, for the divorce
which we see in this merely probational life, between the
occurrence of the physical pictures of God's penalties and the
commission of the sins upon which the real spiritual penalties
are visited. If, for instance, moral transgression invariably
brought its physical punishment, it would cease, for men
would be too much terrified to offend. But the virtue thus
superinduced would be a virtue of fright, of compulsion, not
of free will — not genuine, therefore, and therefore hateful in
God's sight, because insincere. Men with hereditary tenden-
cies to evil, and in a probationary state, must be left free to
sin if they are to be left free to learn to hate sin and to love
purity indeed. And so the incidence of what would otherwise
be the physical penalty of sin is dislocated and rendered occa-
sional, and as it were accidental, lest fear of God should
defeat the love of Him, and a universally well-founded dread
of the physical consequences of vice should make the return
of fallen humanity to unadulterated virtue impossible. And
whilst we thus account for the evident divorce existing
350 The Ooniagums Diseases Acts.
between the evil diseases that often accompany incontinence
and the Divine punishment of that sin, of which they are yet
the terrible and admonitory pictures, we ground upon it the
right of the sanitary reformer to abate, or even, if he can, to
abolish these or any other physical diseases. For whatever may
have been the occult connection between the first outbreak of
diseases and the sins whose consequences they so vividly
pourtray, yet the physical evil, once generated, is self-propa-
gating, extends itself blindly far and wide, may be spread by
accidental causes into innocent families, can be immensely
augmented by carelessness or ignorance, is susceptible of
alleviation, diminution, and cure by medical art, and ought,
for pity's sake, to be encountered and checked by every laud-
able eflTort of the physician. But whilst we are thus careful
to disembarrass the question of a self-contradictory element,
and to give fair play to that side of the debate which, as we
conceive, justly vindicates the right of the sanitary reformer
to adopt every justifiable measure to abate and destroy physical
disease, we still claim our own right to reserve judgment in
other respects on the justifiableness of any particular measure.
For if it is possible that, bad as the disease is, the remedy may
bo worse, then, of course, it is highly necessary to weigh the
character of every proposed remedy. It is here that we again
join hands with the opponents of the new legislation, and
proceed to allude to further reasons against its continuance.
One such reason is found in the evident inefBciency of the
now law. As we have said, it only deals with fornicators of
tlio loHS numerous sex ; the more numerous remain uninspected
Had free to extend disease beyond all possible reach of legis-
lative control. And when it has done all it can with the one
nox, there will yet remain many of them who, evading its
hateful provisions, will remain to be prolific sources of the
distemper. In other cases compliance with the law in every
roepect will fail to lead to the discovery of existing disease,
ana that especially in the worst cases. For, whilst it may
be tending to lessen the occurrence of the less serious forms
of disease, the system confessedly fails most with the
most virulent, these, in their earlier stages, being always
least susceptible, and often not admissive, of discovery. It
should be known that under the name of syphilis are
commonly confounded several distinct diseases ; whilst it is
only true syphilis that is so terrible in its results as to have
any prima facie claim to extraordinary or special legislation.
The less serious complaints incident to incontinence are
probably (on the whole) of no little service to society, by their
power to admonish and deter. For although no amount of
* The Contagious Diseases Acts. 851
fear could ever produce virtue in the least degree, yet fear
can and does conduce notably to the welfare of society by the
useful restraints that it inaugurates. Dread of the law cannot
make a man honest, but it can and often does prevent both
him from stealing and from being therefore punished at
society^s cost, and some one else from suffering the loss of
what ]\o would steal. And fear of acquiring disease in incon-
tince fulfils an equally useful part in society, not indeed by
purifying the thoughts and heart, but yet by preventing
much disturbance and distress, the interruption or defeat of
many serviceable relationships, and the breaking up of many
homes. To God, whose end is man^s restoration to inward
virtue and holiness, it has not seemed worth while to
attach physical suffering so invariably to sin that sinning
should become impossible, and the acquisition of true virtue
be thereby put out of man's reach. But to men, as regards
their temporal interests, and the outward peace and good
order of society, it may be and is both worth their while and
highly important that fear should operate largely to check the
outward manifestations of sinful desires. This is why we
supplement the punishments of Him who says — ' Vengeance
is mine, I will repay,' with our social laws. For the sake, not
of real virtue, but of social order and external peace, it is well
that these deterrent diseases should be suffered to exist. If
their occurrence were invariably coincident with the sin, and
their severity were necessarily on the same scale with the
enormity of the sin in which they were incurred, one might
even be inclined to vote sternly against medical aid to such
sufferers, and that, not for virtue's sake, but in the cause of
. the temporal welfare of society. But since the gravity of each
case medically is in no necessary proportion to the offender's
degree of guilt, pity for the sufferer rightly supersedes that
stern regard for the general welfare, whereby otherwise it
might be over-ridden. This pity, moreover, cannot, of course,
tolerate any violence done to the sufferers, much less the com-
mission of any base outrage upon them. Nor can it consist-
ently invoke the aid of the law in order to utterly suppress
diseases on whose existence pity for society at large has now
reason to congratulate itself.
Another serious objection to this legislation is in the power
to mar the reputation of any woman that it gives to the most
rash, or even to the basest of men, and to subject her to
physical outrage. ' It is found that, under the 17th section
of the Act, practised police spies can bully, cajole, and terrify
comparatively innocent, aye, and entirely innocent girls, into
enrolling themselves in the ranks of registered prostitutes.
S52 The Contagious Diseases Acts.
It is in evidence before the Parliamentary Commission that
already in free England respectable married women^ and at
least one virgin, have been thus grossly violated/ ' One of
the darkest features of the Act is the power of denunciation
which, by it, is placed in the hands of brothel-keepers, pro-
curesses, jealous companions, chagrined swains, anonymous
correspondents, and others belonging to a similar lying and
slanderous class. Already it is in evidence that respectable
women have been denounced out of spite, and that for similar
reasons drunken soldiers have accused innocent women of
communicating disease — innocence only proved, however,
after the grossest outrage/ 'I would appeal,' says Mr. Robert
Charleton, ' to the manly feelings of my fellow-countrymen,
and call their attention to the cowardice, no less than to the
flagrant injustice of a law which allows the male offender to
pursue his course without molestation, and reserves all its
penalties for the weaker sex ; which leaves the adulterer, the
fornicator, the debauchee, in the unrebuked indulgence of his
brutal lust, whilst on the vic/im of that lust it heaps all the horrible
indignities which lie concealed under the smoothly sounding
term, "compulsory medical examination/' ' As we have seen,
any superintendent of police, on the information of any repro-
bate, may inform on oath against any innocent woman who,
being resident within ten miles of one of the scheduled
districts, has once visited it, or who, residing at whatever
distance, has been visited by some male inhabitant of
it j and everything then depends on the private discretion of
a single justice, who may himself have instigated or may
connive at the movement, for some revengeful or otherwise
evil purpose of his own. Thenceforward the woman is ticketed
as a prostitute, and subjected to periodical examinations which
she can only avoid by absconding to some distant region,
whence she is liable to be dragged back and imprisoned, or
by gaining the good opinion and kind offices of the surgeon who
examines her, or of a justice of the peace. And, if at all efficient,
what an examination this is ! No mere cursory glance of the
eye, but the manual application of a tube which may, and,
where the system is in full operation, most probably will be
still warm from use in the body of some other victim.* The
necessary rapidity with which large numbers of women are
successively inspected where these Acts are in force renders
highly probable the communication of infection from one to
* * It consists in ihe forcible inspection of ihe interior of the female bodj by
means of an instrument, in tbe presence of men in a room set apart and known
for tbe purpose of such inspection, taki:ig place with the knowledge of polioeman
and other bangers-oa of a polioe-offioew' — Mr, T, Worik,
The OantagioTAS Diseases Ads. 8^3
another in the Horrible process; and thus the very means
taken to restrict the disease may be the fertile cause of its
extension.
Bat still more alarming is the prospect held out by these
Acts, of a lowering of the moral tone of society at large, in
relation to incontinence. ' Nowhere/ says Dr. Guthrie, ' are
domestic purity and female innocence less secure than in
those cities and countries where this continental system is in
full force. The subject is one to which my attention has been
carefully and painfully turned, and I have found that seduc-
tion is nowhere so common as in those cities where the evil
you seek to eradicate is made a matter of police regulations.'
Professor Newman in his pamphlet justly lays much stress on
this aspect of the question. It is, indeed, obvious that when
the State undertakes to guard the health of prostitutes and to
make vice more safe, it is felt to be virtually sanctioning the
occupation of the women, and to be conniving at their prosti-
tution. Short of prosecution and suppression, its only allow-
able attitude is entire abstention from noticing the existence
of such depravity. Anything more favourable than this, in-
volves promotion of the evil practice, and virtual implication
in its g^ilt. The time will come — a happier day than ours—
when the moral tone of society will be so much improved as
not only to tolerate but imperatively to call for the suppres-
sion of vice by every available implement that the State can
take into its hands. But with the Contagious Diseases Acts
it takes a deeply retrograde step, and lends sanction and aid
to that upon which it ought to fix its severest frown.
We should not find it possible within our limits, if it were
desirable, to go over the whole ground requisite to be tra-
versed in a thorough investigation of this question. The case
is so well put by Mr. Simon that we are content to refer our
readers to his argument ; and where that fails to satisfy them,
there will still remain Mr. F. W. Newman's very powerfully-
written pamphlet. Our object in the present paper is chiefly
to call the attention of our readers to the very important
innovation that has recently been made, and especially to
protest against it, on the grounds of its danger in lowering
the moral tone of the community — of its cowardly baseness in
thundering penalties against the most helpless sex whilst
leaving the other untouched,— and of the monstrous power it
places in the hands of any policeman, common informer, dis-
carded suitor, or would-be oppressor of innocence, to intimi-
date and terrify, and gain his atrocious ends by threatening
to inflict base and intolerable indignities even on the innocent
and the pure. In fact, there is no lady in the land who, if
VoL l2.^No. 48. X
354 Underground Life.
devoid of protectors well able to defend her, might not be-
dragged by this infamous law into the presence of a corrupt-
minded surgeon, at the instance of any miscreant, and sub-
i'ected to the horrors of periodical examination, and permanent
OSS of character. Our sisters, our wives, our mothers are not
safe, except in as far as those who can put the Act in operation
choose to let them remain so. We alluded early in our article
to the excited tone of some of the denouncers of this legisla-
tion : but really, if we write much further^ we ourselves shall be
in danger of screaming. We will conclude at once, simply
adding the expression of our confident opinion that the
British public, when once informed of the real nature of the
Contagious Diseases Acts, willjcry out in thunder for their
repeal.
UNDEBGEOUND LEPE.
\, Underground lAfe; or, Mines and MinereJfJ^'Bj L, Simonin.
Translated and adapted to the present state of British
Mining, and edited by H. W. Bristow,JF.RS. London :
Chapman <& Hall. 1869.
2. Mineral Statistics of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Ireland for the year 1868. With an Appendix by Bobert
Hunt, E.B.S. London : Longmans.
THE 'absolute total value of the metals and coal, with other
minerals (not including slates, lime, building stones, or common
clays), produced in 1868 was £43,525,524.' That is to say, for every
working day of the year there is raised mineral produce to the value
of about jC140,000. This is the worth of the minerals at the place
where they are raised. Nearly the whole of it has to be carried for
shorter or longer distances by sea or by rail. The weight of these
minerals is nearly 120,000,000 tons. Erom these figures we may
form some idea of the immense importance which our mineral wealth
is to us, of the prominent part which ' underground life ' plays in
the life of the nation. The mere money value of our minerals would
give a very imperfect notion. K the United Kingdom were, like its
antipodal colonies, a gold-producing country, a small yield would give
a large value. But as the total quantity of gold quartz raised here
was worth but £1,000, and even that of silver only £222,773, it is
manifest that a large amount of labour must have been expended in
raising the 4dj| millions' worth of minerals mentioned aE)ove, and
Underground Life. 355
that the distribution of them must have led to an extensive circu-
lation of money. We have spoken of the United Kingdom. But
that country contains only a small proportion of the mineral wealth
of the whole world. It has been estimated that in our own country
there are eighty thousand million tons of coal. The coal fields of
Westphalia contain about half of this quantity. Bussia possesses
immense carboniferous deposits stretching from the White Sea to
the iSea of Azof, and along the Ural, hitherto little worked, but whose
Talue Peter the Great was shrewd enough to see, declaring ' these
mines will make the fortunes of our children.' Belgium undoubtedly
owes much of her prosperity to the coal fields which surround Liege.
In France the department of Gard alone yields 1,200,000 tons a
year, and is exceeded by those of the Loire and the Nord. The total
yield of France is however only one-ninth of that of England, about
12,000,000 tons. We know as yet little of the products of Africa,
but Abyssinia and Madagascar certainly contain coal. More than
two-thirds of the whole area of China is occupied by coal-bearing
strata. There is coal in Japan ; unfortunately there is little that is
of much use in India; but the precious fuel has been discovered in
Western Australia. Greenland contains large stores of coal, but it
lies under the ice, and would therefore be awkward to work. There
is coal in Chili and in British North America. But the largest coal
field in the world is in the United States. It covers an area eight
times larger than all the rest put together. It is the great reserve
for future ages. It affords the almost certain proof that henceforth
as hitherto the * course of empire' will still * westward take its way.*
The rapidly increasing consumption of coal in this country has
lately caused some anxiety both to our statists and our statesmen.
Mr. Stanley Jevons affirmed that if we continued our present rate of
increase we should exhaust our supply in about a century. Mr.
Gladstone made this formidable contingency an argument for at-
tempting to reduce the national debt. But that is no reason why
the increase should continue. A large amount of the consumption
is absolute waste. Englishmen consume three tons per head per
annum, while France consumes less than half a ton. True, in
France, wood is much used for fuel ; but even taking that consider-
ation into account, there is ample room for reduction in English
consumption. There is really no reason why we need fear that we
shall perish from cold, though it is quite possible that as our workings
become deeper and therefore more costly to work, we may find it
cheaper to import our coal from the United States. At present
that country raises only 15,000,000 tons of the 170,000,000
raised throughout the world; only about one-seventh of the
quantity raised by England alone. It may be said that to
change the position of the two countries with regard to this all-*
important produce is to transfer the primacy of nations from our-
selves to our quondam-colonists. This is undoubtedly true, and as
certainly unavoidable unless some fresh source of heat, light, and
power can be discovered. It is highly probable that this will be
accomplished. It was when our ancestors were lamenting over the
356 Undergrotmd Life.
destruction of our forests, and aaking where they should find fuel to
smelt their iron, that coal was found to possess the needful qualities.
Necessity is the mother of invention, and in our strait we shall find
some means of escape. Coal after all is petrified sunbeams ; for it
was the solar heat that fixed the carbon in the plants which formed
the coal millions of years ago, and the heat absorbed in doing that
work is now liberated to raise steam : or, as Eobert Stephenson well
said, ' locomotive engines are only the horses of the sun.' M. Simonin,
or his translator (it is the only fault in their book that we can never
tell which of the two is speaking), believes that we must aim to dis-
cover how to utilise and condense the vast heat of the sun which is
now lost. We must learn to ' bottle sunbeams.' The most recent
discoveries with regard to heat support that idea. ' The sun is the
combustible of the future ; and the torrid regions, which are now
nearly desert, may perhaps some day witness a migration of civilised
people in a mass m that direction, like the incursions of the bar-
barians into Europe in former times.'
The Homans knew nothing of the value of coal. Soman emperors
cut their aqueducts through the carboniferous strata, but took no
notice of that which, had its properties been known, might have saved
the empire. The Chinese were better informed than the Romans.
They used coal in the baking of their porcelain, and even collected
the inflammable gases which exude spontaneously from coal, and used
them for illumination. They sank a borer in the ground and con-
veyed the ffas in pipes to the place where it was wanted. They
worked their coal mines in a very primitive fashion. No care was
taken to support the underground ways, or to provide a proper outlet
for the water, or to avoid explosions of fire-damp. As M. Simonin
well remarks in his splendid volume, ' the Chinese have remained in
this primitive state in working their mines up to the present time,
ATid it was scarcely worth while to begin so early if so little progress
was made.' There are indications that coal was worked in Ancient
Britain, for — not to quote other evidence— coal has been found in
ancient workings in Derbyshire and among the ruins of the Boman
Uriconium, the modem Wroxeter. In 1259, Henry III. granted a
charter to the freemen of Newcastle by which they obtained liberty to
' dig for cole,' and subsequently we read of * sea-cole' being carried to
London. There were coal mines in Scotland and Wales before those
countries, were brought under English rule. In 1615, 4,000 vessels were
employed in carrying coal to the continent and bringing back com.
In 1619, Dud Dudley obtained a patent from King James for using
coal in the smelting of iron ore. After many failures, he succeeded,
and established in South Staffordshire the use of coal in the manu-
facture of iron. 'From this period,' says Mr. Bristow, 'may be
dated that activity in coal mining which has distinguished Great
Britain beyond any other country.' Belgium began to work its coal
mines about the same time as England. There is an interesting
legend in connection with the first workings in the former country.
A certain farrier of Flenevaux, Houillos by name, found it impossible
to eftm enough to keep his family from starvation. It was the
Underground Life. 357
deamess of charcoal that troubled him. Ho was on the point of
committing suicide, when a white-bearded man entered the shop.
To him Houillos told his troubles. The old man was moved to tears,
and said to the farrier, ' Go to the high burning mountain, dig up
the ground, and you will find veins of a black earth suitable for the
forge.' Houillos went to the spot, found the earth, placed it on the
fire, and forged a horse-shoe at one heating. He did not keep his
discovery to himself, but told all his neighbours. A grateful
posterity has preserved his memory by giving his name to coal (in
French houille), and he is still spoken of with gratitude by the*
miners of Libge.
In dealing with the forces of nature, we find constant action and
reaction. A century ago the coal mines of Northumberland were
flooded. They must be cleared of water before the coal could be
raised. Up to that time nothing had been done to improve the old
pump, and that was altogether insufficient. At the other extremity
of England, not far from the Land's End, in the copper mines of the
Breage and Wendron district, a ' fire engine,' invented by Captain
Savery, was clearing away the intruding water. A little later,
Newcomen, of Dartmouth, improved upon Saver/s invention. His
* fire-pump ' was applied to the Newcastle mines, and so water plus
coal, that is steam, was made to raise water. A little later the same
media were used for a further purpose. Water plus coal was made
to raise coal. Then a further development took place. In order to
transport more readily this heavy, bmky mineral, rails were used in
coal and iron mines, and so water plus coal plus iron were made to
raise iron. The combination offerees by no means ends here. Coal
is used to smelt the ore w*hich it has helped to raise. Swansea, a
little while ago an almost unknown town, is now the copper-smelting
centre of the world. South Wales produces 8,000,000 tops of coal
annually; the Newcastle district thrice that amount, double l^e
whole supply of Prance. Ireland contributes but a fractional pro-
portion of our yield— only about 120,000 tons out of 100,000,000.
How different would be the condition of that country if the figures
were otherwise. Political discontent would not survive the discovery
of a coal-field. As it is, a large portion of Ireland has, in lieu of
coal, only peat. Both substances are the same element in different
stages : both are carbon ; but while the diamond stands first in the
eight stages of that base, and coal of various sorts occupies the third,
fourth, and fifth stages, peat holds the lowest place. Hence it is
that, while there are wide tracts of Ireland uninhabited or tenanted
by a race of paupers in a chronic state of discontent, Lancashire,
Yorkshire, Staffordshire, and Wales are covered by towns of rapidly-
increasing population, seamed by railways and canals, inhabited by
thoroughly loyal, because contented and prosperous people.
Coal being thus a source of individual wealth and national con-
tentment, its acquisition has always been eagerly sought. Large
sums have been spent in searching for the precious mineral, often
without result. A knowledge of geology is, of course, one of the
most important aids to discovery. Sometimes even geology leads
/
858 Underground Life,
astraj. For instance, M. Simonin relates that the coal measurea in
the neighbourhood of Valenciennes having been suddenly deflected,
instead of continuing in a straight line, years of fruitless effort were
spent in following the missing stratum, and at last it was discovered
only by accident. On the other hand, during a search for Artesian
springs in the Pas -de- Calais, the borer unexpectedly revealed the
presence of coal measures beneath the cretaceous strata.
'Scaroelj was the news made known than eyerybody set to work, and the tool
ms no longer used to search for water, but for coal. So many borings were
immediatel? made, orer a length of about 20 leagues, and an average breadth of
Tour, that the ground was pierced like a colander by a series of borings all acca-
-rately laid down on a plan drawn to a tolerably large scale, reminding one of the
'Constellations of stars as they are figured on celestial charts. Success exceed all
•hopes. The subterranean beds of watery ground (called torrents), which are so
abundant in these districts, caused the most various obstacles to the miners ; but
.they ultimately succeeded in overcoming all impediments. The mineral wealth of
Trance became augmented by a hundred thousand acres of coal fields. Twenty-
«even companies wee formed to work the new concessions. Some forty pits hav©
been sunk through, on an avera^^ from 109 to 164 yards of overlying ground, to
^pths varying from 197 to 328 yards, one pit, that of Ferfay, having its workings
at the depth of 503 yards. In 15 years the produce of this basin has steadilj
increased from less than 5,000 tons in 1851 to 80.000 tons in 1854, while it
attained upwards of 1,600,000 tons in 18^)6, a tenth of the entire produce of
Trance. And all this originated in a search for water! ' — ('Underground Life,'
p. 74.)
When the allies revised the frontiers of France in 1815, they
thought it prudent to draw the line so as to exclude the rich coal
basin of Saarbriick. They felt certain that if coal existed on the
other side of the boundary, it would be at such a depth that it
could not be worked. But the French inhabitants of the Moselle
district were determined to defeat the kind intentions of their
conquerors, and set to work with amazing energy in boring holes and
sinking pits. The constant flooding of the works gave them a vast
amount of trouble, and caused a more serious expense. When the
original capital was exhausted without result, fresh funds were sub-
scribed, and at length, at the opening of the French Chambers in
1858, Napoleon announced that these 43 years' efforts had been
rewarded with success, and he proclaimed the discovery of the
Moselle coal basin. The greatest depth to which boring has ever
been carried is that commenced by Mr. E. Schneider, near Creuzot.
It was carried down a distance of 3,020 feet, and then was stopped
by an unprecedented accident. The borer broke, and although Herr
Kind, the most celebrated boring engineer of the day, was called
in, he found himself quite unable to extract the broken chisel.
The work had, therefore, to be abandoned, to the intense regret of
the neighbouring population. It is by no means certain that there
is not coal under London ; but, if it does exist there, it must be at
a depth far below the 4,000 feet which Mr. Hull has fixed as the
limit of profitable working. Hereafter, probably, means will be
devised for reaching deep coal at a much smaller expense than is now
necessary. When that time comes, it will be for Government to
^consider if it should not undertake the task of boring, which would
Underground Life, 359
1)6 far too costly for private persons to attempt. The prelimmary
expenses of opening a coal mine are very great. Frequently the
sinking of the necessary shafts and the furnishing them with tackle
costs £80,000. In one case, that of a coal mine in Durham,
£100,000 was spent upon one shaft. K there seems no limit to the
expense, so likewise is there none to the ingenuity displayed in
mining. In the coal fields of the Lower Loire, it became necessary
to sink through submerged sand, and to establish the shaft in the
yery bed of the river. To pump water out from such a soil as this
was as hopeless a task as that laid upon the Cornish Giant Tregeagle,
when he had to empty Dosmary Pool with a pierced limpet shell. M*
Triger sank iron cylinders, excavated &om them the sand and stones,
divided the apparatus into three air-tight compartments, forced
compressed air in the lower one, and enclosed the workmen in that,
as in a diving-belL The compressed air being carried against the
bottom of the shaft, prevented tne water from rising. * Imagine an
army of mice,' said M. Triger to M. Simonin, * and a cat suddenly
to make her appearance, you would have the picture of the wat^
reaching the bottom of one shaft by a thousand holes in the ground
if the pressure of the air is lowered, and returning suddenly to the
sands as soon as the air recovers its tension.' The rubbish and
running sands are removed in buckets. Trapdoors communicate
from one stage to the other, and so an approach to an atmospheric
equilibrium is maintained. Most of the workmen carry on their
operations in the compressed atmosphere with as much ease as in the
open air. Two classes of men are exceptions — those who have the
drum of the ear very delicate, and those given to the use of strong
drinks. Some workmen actually derive comfort from an air thus
made rich in oxygen. The ability to whistle is lost in it, but the deaf
recover their hearing for a time, and lamps burn in it with greater
brilliance. This application of compressed air was used in building
the Eoyal Albert Bridge, which spans the Tamar between Devon
and Cornwall, and also in building the bridge across the Medway at
Eochester, and that across the Bhine at Kehl.
A coal mine which has been worked for any considerable period
is well worth visiting. In many of the continental mines it is usual
to offer prayers before the miners descend ; and even where this is
not done, they cross themselves, and whisper an invocation to the
Virgin, or to Saint Barbe, the great patron of miners. A stranger
descending the shaft for the first time is apt to crouch down in the
cage, fearing a collision. The miners, having learnt confidence by
experience, often descend in a manner that seems utterly reckless.
Amved at the bottom, galleries are seen stretching out in all direc«
tions. Some are wide, long, and high, and form the principal streets
of the mine. Others are low, narrow, tortuous, ill- ventilated, and
in bad repair, suggesting the back alleys of a large city. This under^
ground town is inhabited night and day, for the miners relieve each
other in shifts of eight hours each. It is furrowed by railways, upon
which trucks of coal are constantly running. Sometimes the roof is
80 low that the trucks have to be drawn or propelled by men. Bat
360 Underground Life.
horses are largely used, and these, when thej have once descended,,
rarelj see the light again; nevertheless, thej thrive and grow
&t. The galleries are so numerous and intricate that it is
absolutely necessary to have maps of them. These are obtained
by means of the graphometer, the theodolite, and the chain.
It is of the highest importance that the maps should be accu-
rate. Sometimes a level is driven from several points at once,
and should a trifling deviation be made from the proper line,
there will be an imperfect junction. The miners arc so fully aware
of this fast, that they are always on the look-out to prevent what
they would consider a serious calamity. They not only adhere
fiiithfully to the orders that are given them, but before meeting they
knock with the pick and hammer, and judge by the way in which the
sound is transmitted through the solid ground between them, whether
the two working places are in the right direction for meeting. Upon
the accuracy of the surveyor depend important rights of property.
If he blunders, one coalovmer may seriously encroach upon the land
of another, and so open the door to future litigation. The plan and
its accompanying sections shew also the various levels, the dip of the
seam, the chances of infiltration of water-courses, the amount of
coal which ought to be left as a wall to separate old from new work-
ings, and one property from another. The plan, in fact, is an exact
copy of the mine, and reveals its condition as truly as though the
ere could see at a glance all the different levels. It is for this reason
that coalowners are often indisposed to show their plans to visitors.
The pitman's life is a battle with the four ' elements,' to retain
our old schoolday phraseology.
' Fire menaces him in blasting, in the firing of the coal and in explosions of
fi(e*damp ; the air, by becoming rarefied, or mixed with mephitic or explosira
▼apours ; the earth, in falls of roofs, &o. ; the water, by inundations. The collier
opposes to all these (often inyisible) enemies, the calm stoicism, the approTcd
courage, and the practical science which tend to make the braye and skilled miner.
And the underground soldier is the more meritorious, in that he is encouraged
neither by the certainty of adyancement, nor by the hope of honourable recompense
in this contest in which he risks his life at eyerj moment. He has only the satis-
faction of obserying discipline, and of faithfully doing his duty.' — (' Underground
Life,' p. 146.)
The blasting of coal gives rise to many accidents, which, how-
ever, are often due proximately to the carelessness of the miners.
Spontaneous combustion is more formidable, because less under
control. It is produced by the heating of tha small coal, from the
decomposition of the iron pyrites which the coal contains in contact
with moisture. When the small coal of certain seams is left in the
mine it speedily undergoes this chemical decomposition. It is accom-
panied by a great development of heat. The coal soon ignites, and
the fire, finding in the coal seam a natural aliment, spreads rapidly
through the mine. In such cases dams of clay are built up to isolate
the conflagration, which, being deprived of atmospheric air soon
goes out. If the fire is only a slight one, the use of steam and of
carbonic acid is sometimes adopted to extinguish it. The recently
Underground Life, 861
invented extincteur is also successful in attaining tbe same result.
But if the conflagration is serious, there is no alternative to the
dams. Erecting these is one of the most trying tasks that the miner
has to perform. He is compelled to remain in an impure air of very
high temperature, and has to hold under the nostrils and over
the mouth rag soaked in lime water or ammonia in order to
neutralise the mephitic vapours, which otherwise would render
him insensible. In some cases the fire will not yield to any
exertions, and it is necessary to close up the mouth of the shafb.
There is one mine in England where a fire is still raging after many
years. A last resource is to flood the mine, and in one instance,
near Charleroy, it was found necessary to turn the river Sambre into
the raging underground furnace. There was formerly a coal mine
on fire near Dudley. The eflfeet was visible on the surface. The
snow melted as soon as it touched the ground. The gardens yielded
three crops a year, and a constant spring prevailed. In another
district of Staffordshire a similar phenomenon was observed, and the
inhabitants determined to establish a tropical garden on the spot.
They imported colonial plants at a heavy expense, and for a time
cultivated them successfully in the open-air conservatory. One day
the fire went out, the soil resumed by degrees its natural tempera-
ture, and the plants died. But these underground fires are almost
harmless when compared with fire-damp. This foe of the miners is
vividly described by M. Simonin, and an accompanying illustration
g'ves some idea of the fearful nature of the rum which is wrought
r it: —
'The moment the mixed gas oomee in contact with the flame of a lamp a
tremendous explosion takes place, resulting from the combination of the com-
ponents of the fire-damp, hydrogen and carbon, with the oxyeen of the air. Tbe
two former separate to combine with the oxygen, with which they hare the
greatest affinity. The double phenomenon only takes place at a hieh temperature ;
without flame it would not arise. The reaction produces an effect like the most bril-
liant lightning, and makes itself heard bj a clap of thunder. The explosion spreads
instantly into all the galleries of the mines , a roaring whirlwind of flaming air
destroys everything it encounters, overthrowing trains and brattices and trap-doora,
mounts into the shaft, and lifts from its foundation the staging which coyers its
mouth, through which it discharges thick douds of coal, stone, and timber. The
men are blinaed, thrown down, scorched, and sometimes burnt to a cinder ; often
their clothes take fire, and not unfrequently they are buried beneath the ruins of
tbe fallen roofs. When an attempt is made to fly to their assistance, there is not
time to rescue them : there are only corpses left, which are scarcely recognisable.
. . . The air doors are thrown down, the Tentilation of the mine is rerersed,
the underground atmosphere is vitiated by the combustion of the fire-damp, and
the stalls are«filled witn steam and carbonic acid. Sometimes the temperature
rises so much that the coal is eonrerted into coke at the sides of the galleries, and
the commotion is so great that the dams hare to withstand both fire and water,
and the wallings rais^ to resist the thrust of the measures ore themselyes over-
thrown. Then to a scene of already indescribable desolation are added the horrors
of inundation, falls of the ground and fire, when the explosion has already made
only too many victims.'— (• Underground Life/ p. 157.)
Before the invention of the safety-lamp, it used to be the custom
in some continental mines to light the fire-damp every night, in
order that it might not accumuLate to a dangerous extent. To do
862 Underground Life.
thiB was a perilous task, and many a time he who performed it never
returned. He was called the cannonier, and if he fell a victim to the
fire-damp, it was said that he had died at his post, and on the field
of honour. In other mines he was called a penitent, on account of
the resemblance of his dress to that of certain religious orders*
Wrapped in a covering of wool or leather, the foce protected by a
mask, and the head enveloped in a hood like a monk's cowl, he
crawled on the ground to keep himself in the layer of good air. In
one hand he held a long stick, with a lighted candle fixed at the end
of it, and he went alone lost in this poisonous maze, causing explo-
sions by advancing his lamp, and thus decomposing the noxious gases.
Eeturning he walked upright, for the fire-damp had, by combustion,
been changed into carbonic acid, which, being heavier than the air, fell
to the bottom. Davy's discovery led to the abolition of the * penitent *
or * cannonier,' and to the saving of innumerable lives. Indeed it
would have be^n impossible for our coal trade ever to have reached
its present enormous dimensions but for this discovery, and its
subsequent application in the invention of the safety lamp. The
discovery arose in this wise. Davy was engaged on a series of
researches on flame, and he noticed that small metal rings
reduced the size and the illuminating power of flame. By-
reducing the size of the rings he found that the passage
of the flame was entirely prevented, and that a gauge com-
posed of very fine metal wire would not allow the flame
to pass through. All the heat of the combustion is expended in
raising the temperature of the metal, which is a good conductor of
heat, and the flame does not retain heat enough to burn on the
outside of the gauze. The explosive gas would pass through the
wire gauze and be exploded at the flame within it ; but the ignited
gas could not pass back through the gauze, and hence could not
communicate with or explode the gas on the outside. The many
explosions which took place in coal mines about the year 1815,
induced Davy to apply this discovery by the invention of his safety-
lamp. George Stephenson made a similar invention almost simul-
taneously, and, indeed, claimed a priority over Davy. But at a
meeting of coal-owners it was decided that the honour of the dis-
covery belonged originally to the Cornishman. The two first Davy
lamps used in a colliery are now preserved in the museum of prac-
tical geology, in London. Doubtless they are a trophy of more lives
saved than the Belgian lion at Waterloo is of lives lost. Doubtless,
too, most of the explosions* which have taken place since this dis-
covery are due to the recklessness of the miners who, rather than
forego the pleasure of the pipe, will expose themselves and hundreds
of their comrades to the risk of a terrible death. Only less useful,
because less frequently used than the safety lamp, are the various
apparatuses which have been devised for supplying miners with a
store of fresh air. M. Eouquayrol's invention consists of a reser-
voir of sheet-iron, made strong enough to resist the pressure of from
25 to 40 atmospheres, and which is filled with compressed air forced
into it by pumps. The reservoir is fastened on the miner's back, as
Undergrormd Life. 863
a soldier's knapsack, and a pipe passes from the reservoir into the
mouth of the wearer. Bj a contrivance, consisting of a kind of
bellows, the air is made to enter the lungs at only the ordinary pres-
sure. The nostrils are closed by a spring. This invention will
enable a man to breathe under water.
Fire and air are more dangerous and destructive than earth and
water, because less easy to guard against, and less easy to combat
when they have made an attack. When an explosion takes place
there is small chance of saving the inmates of the mine ; but when the
ground gives way it is sometimes possible to dig through the ruins
and extract the prisoners ; or when a mine is flooded it is often
possible to pump out the water sufficiently to rescue the men, who
in the meanwhile have taken refuge in one of the higher levels.
These deliverances are generally terribly exciting. They are a race
with death. The prisoners can do nothing for themselves, but have
to wait in silence, darkness, and hunger, the approach of their
liberators. These work with super-human strength and energy;
and M. Simonin mentions an instance in which a thickness of coal
was dug through in 70 hours that under ordinary circumstances
would have required a month. The same writer tells a series of the
most stirring adventures which there is no space for us to repeat in
full. In one instance miners who had been overtaken by a sudden
inundation, and had taken refuge in an old working, were rescued
alive after 13 days' imprisonment. The temperature, and the pressure
and the composition of the air were favourable to life. Moreover
they had the means of quenching their thirst. To assuage their
hunger they first devoured their leather belts, and then ate the
rotten wood of the strutts. Even the place of refuge to which they
had fled seemed at one time likely to fail them. The water rose
until it wetted their feet, but it then began to fall. Seeing it
gradually subsiding a boy, who was one of the party, resolved to go
in search of an outlet. Swimming or holding on by the walls, he
groped his way along the level, but soon fell into a hole and laid hold
of a rail. Exhausted and chilled with cold, he returned to his
comrades, who lay close to him to warm him, and then covered him
with small coal. In that position he was found.
Sitting by our snug fire-sides hearing the wind howling without,
we sometimes cast a thought of compassion towards the storm-tossed
mariner, who may at that very moment be gulfed in the raging
waves, or dashed to pieces upon the cruel rocks of some iron-bouna
coast ; but we seldom think of the poor collier who has supplied us
with the means of warmth and light at the expense of his life. In the
year 1866 no fewer than 651 deaths were caused from explosions of
fire-damp in English coal pits. It was an exceptionally disastrous year.
It was the year of the Oaks Colliery and the Talk-o'-th'-Hill Colliery
catastrophes, both of which occurred in the same week, and the first
of which had no fewer than 361 victims, the largest number ever
known. Happily this high figure is much in excess of the average.
This gives one death for every 68,484 tons raised. Some coal fields
are much more s ubj ect to fire-damp than others. In the Midland field.
364 Underground Life.
extending through Derbyshire, Leicestershire, Warwickshire, and
Notts, the average is low ; and it is to be hoped that the just discovered
coal measures in the Jast-mentioned county may maintain the character
of the district for comparative freedom from disasters. Scotland is much
more fortunate in this respect than the greater part of England. In
the eastern portion of the Northern Kingdom 190,625 tons are raised
for every life lost ; while in Yorkshire the proportion of deaths is
just six times as large. In that terribly fatal year, 1866, there were
1,484 lives lost among the 320,663 coal miners in Great Britain.
These miners were at work in 3,192 collieries, and they raised
101,630,544 tons of coal. Large as was the proportion of lives lost
through explosions of fire-damp, they were much fewer than those
sacrificed by falls of roof, the proportion being as 169 to 416. The
two bear much the same relation to the death list that is occupied
by cholera and fever. The one slays its thousands all at once, and
the world stands aghast ; the second slays its tens of thousands one
by one, and the world takes no heed.
Por encountering this double risk — the risk of wholesale
slaughter and of isolated death — the miner ought to be well com-
pensated. The wages vary greatly. In Somersetshire a pitman gets
lower wages than an agricultural labourer in the North of England,
only 15s. and six cwt. of coal a week. In South Wales 22s. to 25s. is
the average ; in Lancashire 24s. to 2ds. ; but then the pitman has
to pay for his own hauling. In South Staffordshire the pay is
48. 10 Jd. a day, with an allowance of two quarts of beer daily and a
ton of coals monthly. The best hewers get as much as 12s. per ton
in the Newcastle district. In the Forest of Dean and in many parts
of Wales the payment is by the ton. These figures are liable to
variation. At a depressed time like the present, when, in conse-
quence of the dulness of trade and manufactures, less coal is con-
sumed, the coal owners naturally wish to stimulate consumption by
lowering their prices ; but if they do that they must persuade the
pitmen to take lower wages. This condition is the most fertile
source of disagreement. The employed look upon the employer as
their natural enemy, against whom they must be continually pre-
pared to make war. Hence frequent disastrous strikes. A remedy
for this most unsatisfactory state of things has been devised, and, so
fiir, has worked with great success. Messrs. Briggs having £80,000
invested in collieries, and finding that, in consequence of incessant
disputes with their men and the resulting strikes, they were
earning only four per cent, on their capital, determined to
close their works, and to transfer their money to a more
remunerative investment. Before carrying out their intention, it
was suggested by one of the younger members of the firm that,
as a last resource, the men should be taken into partnership with
their employers, and receive a definite share of the profits. The
result was to raise these almost immediately to 17 per cent. It was
found that the men ceased to haggle about wages, because they knew
that if they did not get paid in one way they would in another ;
hence there were no more strikes. They also became diligent con-
Underground Life. 865
Bervers of their master'a property, the machinery, the timber, and
the candles, because all these were their own property. It only
remains to see how they would stand the strain of a loss instead of
a profit in order to determine if this * partnership of industry ' is
the solution of the great problem of labour versus capital which some
Eersons declare it to be. One thing is certain, a loss is much less
kely to occur where hundreds are interested in making a profit than
where it is only the units who are interested, and the hundreds are
indifferent. This being so, it is remarkable that the principle of co-
operation has not been extended more widely. There is still a
powerful motive for extension, since strikes are abundant and frequent.
True, the principle of arbitration is spreading ; but, as prevention is
better than cure, it is wiser to remove the causes of dispute than to
heal the dispute after it has arisen. Unfortunately France and Bel-
gium, which used to be free from strikes, have lately witnessed
several ; and one in the former country last summer led to a serious
collision between the miners and the soldiers, which was marked by
a lamentable loss of life. In one respect the continental miners
are superior to our own. M. Simonin declares that the French
collier is seldom drunk. He has a great love for his house, and will,
if possible, become the owner of it. The employers generally let the
houses at rents yielding less than 5 per cent, interest; or, if the
miner wishes to build for himself, they supply him with lime,
stone, and timber at cost price. Attached to the house is a garden,
in which, when not too weary, he loves to work. In Belgium,
unfortunately, as in England, the public-houses are a curse to the
collier. The American colliers have a peculiar fondness for their
tools. The German colliers form a sort of caste with peculiar
costume, dress and manners, as well as freemasonry traditions, and
even superstitions. There is a Teutonic proverb, * Proud as a'miner.'
The Spanish colliers almost live on cigarettes, yet are energetic and
industrious. The Italians have to work in the poisonous Maremma.
So fatal is the exhalation from the marshes in this district that an
emigration of miners takes place every summer ; and when the cold
weather and the colliers return, it is generally found that a large
amount of work has to be done in order to repair the ravages made
by the subterranean floods during the interval.
We have written thus fully upon the coal mines, because it is
these which are really the most important economically, and which
in their working offer the greatest number of interesting incidents.
We could do without gold, for we could devise some other medium
of commercial circulation. We could do without diamonds, and the
majority of us would not know that the world had sustained any loss
if every diamond were reduced to carbonic acid by the blow-pipe.
There is only one of the metals whose absence would cause a serious
retrogression in civilization — iron. That metal makes all the differ-
ence between civilization and barbarism. Fortunately for England
iron is usually found in close neighbourhood to coal, and so the
metal which is so infinitely more precious to us than the ' precious
metals' so-odled, is accompanied by the mineral which is necessary
366 Underground Life,
to work it. The total iron ore production in the United Kingdom
in 1868, was 10,169,231 tons, valued at £3,196,600. More than
one-third of the whole amount was, according to Mr. Hunt's mineral
statistics, produced by Yorkshire; Scotland yielded, 1,250,000 tons ;
Staffordshire, only a little less ; Lancashire, 767,625 tons ; South
Wales and Monmouthshire, nearly the same amount. It will, we
think, surprise oar readers, as it has certainly surprised us, to learn
that Northumberland and Durham, in spite of their large iron ship-
building rivers, yield far less iron (125,000 tons) than Lincolnshire,
which is commonly supposed to be an essentially agricultural county,
but which, nevertheless, yields 205,699 tons. Derbyshire and North-
amptonshire were a long way a-heaid of both counties, and Cumberland
yields nearly as much as all four put together, viz., 926,628 tons.
Lreland also is far in the rear, and contributes but 41,469 tons,
worth £10,492, too small an amount to increase materially the
prosperity of the people. Iron requires, not only much labour to
raise it, but much more to convert it into use. The hull alone of
the Great Eastern required 10,000 tons of iron. Assuming that the
ore yielded 50 per cent, of metal, this would involve the raising of
20,000 tons of ore, and from 40,000 to 50,000 tons of coal, the whole
year's produce of a very rich iron and coal mine. England at
present stands far in advance of other countries as to this produce.
The total yield of iron, cast iron and steel, throughout the world, was
in 1865, 9,500,000 tons, ofwhichour own country produced just over
one-half^ 4,900,000 tons. France and the United States followed
next, but longo inter vallo, with 1,200,000 each. Belgium and Prussia
were next with 500,000 each ; all other countries yielded less than
half a million tons. The total amount reckoned at the mean price
of ^8 per ton would give a value of £76,000,000, while that of coal
is nearly XS9,500,000. The price of iron varies much more than
that of coal, and therefore there is more room for speculation and
therefore for larger fortunes, and also for heavier losses in the iron
than in the coal trade. One of the most remarkable discoveries con-
nected with the first was that the Cleveland hills were a mass of
ironstone. It is discoveries like these which have led to the sudden
springing up of large towns like Middles borough and Barrow-in-
Purness, both of which were, about thirty years ago, unknown vil-
lages. An invention of another sort, that of converting iron into steel
in large masses by a cheap process, has brought the inventor, Mr.
Bessemer, an enormous fortune which, so long as his patent lasts,
yields him, it has been said, about the same income as the Marquis
of Westminster's. During 1868 the number of works using Mr.
Bessemer's process and paying a royalty to him was 17 in England,
7 in the United States, 10 in Austria, 12 in Sweden, and 8 in other
countries, or 61 in all.
South America was, until lately, the chief source of our supply of
the * precious ' metals. But the mines of Bolivia and Peru, as well
as those of Mexico and Central America, have been in great part
abandoned. The depth of the works, the influx of subterranean
watei:, and constant civil wars have combined to bring about thia
Underground Life. 867
result. The mines of Potosi, in the first mentioned country, during
the two centuries from the Spanish conquest to the emancipation,
yielded to Spain silver to the value of £240,000,000. Just as the
silver mines seemed to be exhausted the discoveries of gold in Cali-
fornia took place. These were followed by others in Australia, and
later still in New Zealand. The gold deposits of Australia may be
said to have been discovered by a man who never saw them, who has
always lived at their antipodes. It is one of the triumphs of science
that Sir Eoderick Murchison, reasoning from the nature of the rocks
■which he was told were in Australia, and finding that they were pre-
cisely similar to the auriferous rocks of the Ural Mountains which
he had j ust visited, announced confidently that there was gold in our
great colony, and so soon as search was made it confirmed his bold
statement. In New Zealand the discoveries have been more recent,
and quite lately some 240 companies have been started to work the
gold fields. Ail have done well. In some instances £10 shares have,
in the course of a few months, become worth £15,000, and among
the lucky speculators is the Duke of Edinburgh, who has made
£200,000. This great infiux of gold seriously alarmed our
financiers and political economist. It seemed as if the
standard of our gold currency must be considerably altered.
The money market was embarassed by its riches. A cure soon
ofiered. At the close of 1859 there came word of a great discove^
of silver in the State of Nevada, which is separated &om California
by ^e snowy chain of the Sierra. A French engineer was sent to
report upon the discovery. He confirmed all that had been reported,
and at the present time the silver mines are producing metal to
nearly twice the value of that raised in the gold fields. About
16,000,000 dollars are raised annually from the Comstock lode,
which is among the richest and most productive metalliferous
deposits ever encountered in the history ot mining enterprise. In
fact, the yield from this one vein was very nearly one-fourth of the
produce of all the silver mines in the world. The mines of the
Pacific slope of the United States yield annually 100,000,000 dollars
of the precious metals, or more than four times as much as the total
produce of the world less than 30 years ago. When it is remem-
bered that the United States contain also immense stores of coal
and iron, that in Micnesota forty men were, in 1854, engaged for a
whole year in cutting up a single mass of native copper weighing
600 tons, that zinc, nickel, and lead are also found in the States, it is
clear that that country must hereafter take the lead of all other
nations. Our patriotism may make us slow to believe this, and yet
if we doubt it we have only to examine the condition of our own
metallilRrous mines. A visit to Cornwall at the present time will
convince us that the ancient glory of that famous district has
departed. Mine after mine has been closed. A large number of
the most skilful miners have emigrated to North and South America,
or to Australia. In the old country the metals have to be raised at
a heavy cost from great depths ; in the new they are on the surface,
or but a little way below it. The tin of the Dutch settlements in
368 Underground Life.
Am in dririnff our own tin out of our own markets ; the copper of
Chili 18 in like manner competing with the copper of Cornwall,
Thu!» dv>e* Prv>Tidenc«? draw men firom the districts which are over-
orvuvdini to the >vastee which hare to be peopled, for in the eyes of
th^ nitine ruler of th^ e^rth the whole world is but one countrj,
its inhsitvitants but one race. We, if we are wise, shall assent with
che<^'tViln««9 to this anangement, and not suffer any narrow local
r^ixivik^ tv^ otiscure th* wwdom of the plan which, though it may
aimiuisK th^ pw^tt^ of Kw^land, increases the happiness of mankini
It i» wvxrthy v^f nv>t^ how ot\en discoveries which are of lasting
b^H^t K> t W W^ brtn|t vmlr disaster to the individual. Godoy, the
iJijWtvwNr m tS^l %>f the richest vein of silver in Chili, was a
K^nt«^ a«K>«N^ iW Am^ One day, while resting, he remarked the
fiWCnW A>«\*ir *w4 brightness of an overhanging rock. He found
tWi >?^ vV^'vi ^-^i? ^t like cheese, and, taking it to the mineralogists of
l\V>*:^v tW* sW<^*r*d it to be chloride of silver. By the Spanish
w^ ^V H\\!BKV^¥wr of a mine becomes its owner, and Godoy entered
^♦^s ^^?t*l!*<^^^j^ ^^^^ *^ experienced man for working the new-foun^
*l;y^ijL«^:^ It proved most productive, but Godoy, being of a roving
JN«^\v>xs.A vi^t^rmined to seek new mines, sold his share for £2,800,
^^^^ ^>^ Vrittt ««<tfoh, and, after having squandered his money in dis-
w^v^i'^ ^Wsl penniless. Marshall, a Mormon labourer, was one
STv^^^ w 1^^ digging a race for a saw mill in California, when
W t^^l •^>«ie pieces of yellow metal which he believed to be gold.
^^ v^ir^jtlW it to a friend, who, on showing it to an expert at San
li\^^^>^«vN\ at once confirmed the supposition, and the expert returned
^^^ tW messenger to the place where the metal was found, and in
^ t^yi uu^nths thousands of persons were pouring into the gold field,
f^^ iKs^t in three years the population of California rose from 15,000
Iv^ tvK>AH>0. Though millions sterling were raised, Marshall in 1859
vi^ v^uite forgotten, and was poorer than before. This rule of sie
%iA# mH vohis has its exceptions. The shepherd who, while lighting a
Kv^ in Peru, was struck by a shining stone, and, taking it to Lima,
^^Mtul it to be silver, and so led to the discovery of the most famous
l^^thiHi in Peru, became a millionaire. The poor Irishmen who some
ftmrteen years ago discovered one of the richest gold mines in
^>vttda, amassed princely fortunes, built splendid mansions, but
rtitained their original simplicity. Sometimes both good and evil
fortune are experienced. The Brothers Bolados who discovered an
enormous block of silver ore in a crevice opened by some earthquake,
made £140,000 in two years, squandered it in dissipation, and when
it was gone learnt too late that their mine was exhausted.
We have not space to speak of other metals, nor of gems. Much
interesting information respecting them is given in M. Simonin's
work. For that book we must say a word of commendation. It is
a magnificent volume, a real livre de luxe. The manner in which
the tints of the most variegated metals are represented in the
coloured engravings is really marvellous. Altogether the volume
would be a most valuable addition both to the shelves of the library
and to the drawing-room table.
a
( 369 )
STATISTICAL DATA FOR SOCIAL RBFOEBIEES.
1. PROniBITOBT FaJUSHES IN THE PrOVIHCB OP CANTERBURT.
Maxy of the readers of Meliora have read the admirable Report of the Committee
of the Convocation of Canterbury upon the Causes, Extent, and Remedies of
Intemperance. One large edition of that invaluable document has alreodj been
disposed of, and another is in course of preparation. One of the most interesting
features of that volume is a list of parishes, towaships, and ehapelrios in the Pro-
vince of Canterbury, where no sale of intoxicating uquors, whether ardent spirits,
wine, or beer, is licensed. Referring to this social phenomenon the committee
say (and these weighty words are the last of their Report), ' Few, it may be
believed, are cognizant of the fact— which has been elicited by the present inquiry —
that there are at this time, withia the Province of Canterbury, upwards of 1,000
parishes in which there is neitlier public-house nor beershop ; and where, in conse-
quence of the absence of theae inducements to crime and pauperism, according to
the evidence before the oommiftteo^ the intelligence, morality, and comfort of the
people, are such at the finends of tnopenmce would have anticipated. ' The number
of these places ii nndtrntad brthe committee ; and if any one is in doubt con-
cerning the effects deaoribed, let him turn to the appendix of the Report, where
under the letters J. J. tkey will find twenty-nine pages filled with testimonies from
local observers upon * the good effects of having no public-house or beershop.' The
list of these fisTourod parishes follows this long fine of evidence, and occupies
another eleven pages. We are now in the position, b^ favour of the editor of
Graham's Tewiperano^ Quide for 1870, to present a classified summary of places,
according to ooontiss, with a ststement of the proportion of the population in each
county thus shielded from many forms of evil to which their neighbours are still
exposed.
The Ecclesiastical Province of Canterbury comprised in 1861 a population of
14,071,164, residing in 33 English counties, the Principality of Wales 12 counties,
and the Channel Islands.
No. of
Fopulatiou
Placei""~
Name of Ck>ant3r.
Population
Places reported
of Places
reported but
in 1861.
without a
\
without a
population
driok-ahof
>. drink-ahop.
not known.
Bedfordshire ...
• • •
135,287
• • •
11
...
1,240
• • •
....
Berkshire
• • •
176,2a6
• • •
11
...
1,769
• • m
1
Buckinghamshire
• ••
167,993
• ••
35
...
4,540
• • •
•>
•J
Cambridgeshire
• • •
176,016
• « •
8
...
1,172
• ••
Cornwall
• • •
369,390
• • •
25
...
4,471-
■ . .
1
Derbyshire
• • •
339,327
• • •
19
...
4,256
• • ■
—
Devonshire
• ••
&o4,tJ7o
• • •
22
• • •
5,101
• • ■
—
Dorsetshire
• • •
188,769
• • «
107
• • ■
18.073
• • ■
4
Essex
• V •
405,851
• • •
35
...
5,034
• ••
1
Gloucestershire
• « •
485,770
t • •
84
...
14,053
• • ■
6
Hampshire
Herefordshire ...
• • •
481,815
• • ■
8
...
1,867
■ • •
— _
• • •
123,712
• ••
96
. • •
16,418
• • •
.»
Hertfordshire ...
• • •
173,280
• • •
2
...
170
• • •
—
Huntingdon^ire
• « •
64,250
• • •
8
...
861
• ••
—
Rent
• • •
733,887
* • •
37
...
3.533
» • •
Leicestershire ...
• • •
237,412
• • •
79
...
10,150
• • •
3
Lincolnshire ...
• • •
412,246
• • •
113
. • .
19,156
• • ■
Middlesex
1
• •• 4
3,206,485
• « •
—
...
—
• • •
—
Monmouthshire
• ••
104,633
• ••
27
...
3,096
• ■•
—
Norfolk
• • •
434,798
• ••
127
• . .
16,663
• • •
5
Northamptonshire
• ••
227,704
• ••
57
...
5,165
• • •
2
Nottinghamshire
• ••
293,867
• • •
52
• ..
7,451
• ••
1
Oxforcbhire ...
• • •
170,944
• • •
8
•. •
1,380
• ••
Rutlandshire ...
• ••
21,861
• •■
14
...
1,368
• ••
3
Shropshire
• ••
240,959
• • •
61
...
9,777
• • •
2
Somersetshire ...
• ••
444,873
• • •
14
..•
2,724
« • V
1
Staffordshire ...
• ••
746,943
• ••
23
•••
2,341
•••
..
Vol. i2.-.2r».
48.
1
Y-
Statistical Data for Social Jteformert.
Ho. or FopplktiOD
laofCouDty, fwulKtlon PliMa reported ntPIua
Siiffdlk
... 3W,07O
... a.'U,003
a-aasei
... 363,73«
Wnrivicbihiro...
... ri6I,8ij
Wilishiro
... 249,all
Worcostershirp
... .■OT,307
Wales.
AnglMwi Ufm ... 31 ... 7,1»7 ... —
tireeoQsbire ... 61,637 ... 3 ... 460 ... —
CBrdigBnahiro ... 72,245 ... 15 ... 5,232 ... —
CBrmarthenshin- ... 11I,7M ... 2 ... 584 ... —
tamuTonshJro ... 95,694 ... 16 ... 4,238 ... —
Uenbighshire ... 100,778 ... fl ... 107 ... 8
Flintrtiire 60,737 ... 7 ... — ., —
aUmorpinshiro ... 317.753 ... 16 ... 1,854 ... I
Merionfitbshirp ... 38.963 ... 15 ... 4.611 ... —
MootgomerjBhiPD ... 66.919 ... 7 ... 2,143 ... 2
Pcmbrokealiirc ... 96,278 ... 40 ... 6,916 ... I
Ksdnorahirr ... 2."i,383 .. — ... — ... —
: l;i.979,963
Part of CliMter (3t.
DiTid'i Diocese)... 234 ... — ... — ... —
Ch»nnBl XsUods ... 90,078 ... — ... — ... -
FopulatioD of Pro-
Tiii(»o(C»nlerburyH,'J71,l&4 1.307 222,258 70
Some curiouB iuforeaccs sre deducible from tliie return. For one thin,
appatn that in the Prorince of Csnterburj one in eiery liitf .seven persons 1
in a prohibitory district ; and if the counties not bJest \yj a proliibitorr dtsi
are excluded from the calculation, the proportiori will be one in erery Utj-M
persons -, and if, further, tbe whole metropolitan district is excluded, the popola
will be one in evcrj HftT-threc. The ProTince of York though smaller in i
and population than that of Canterbury, would probably show still more stril
resuKS : and we trust that, officially or unofficially, the inquiry will eoon be car
ont and tbe facta published to the world.
Til CoNStwFTioic ar SpiniTS ih Eholiiiid, ScotLuiD. Airn Iau.A:(D,
iH THE TaAia 1865-6-7-8.
A recentFarliameotary return, moved for bjSirT.KCotebrooke,M.P.,enab1(
to see at a glanoe the consumption of each kind of ardent spirit in e*ch i^
three oountne* inaking up the United Kingdom during the four jean nu
December, 1B68.
The British spirits (gin and whukj) may be taken first: —
1866. 1866. 1867. 1568.
Bnghuid, gaUons H.238,I0,J 11.717,111 ll,32;t,713 11.3-'7.223
Scotland 6,ll«8,ti07 5,463.465 4,093,009 4.901,710
Irelaod , 4,374,443 5,036.814 4,892,654 4,773,710
C. Kingdom, galls 30,mi.l55 22,217,390 21,190,376 21,002,943
Tbe Colonial spirite (rum) follow next : —
1865. 1866. 1867. 1868.
England, gallons 3.414,783 3,777,404 3,861,391 3.486,731
Scotland , 203,073 252,259 345,152 359.713
Ireland „ 80,483 97,467 106,379 108,640
U. SUB^om, pile. 3,698,333 4,127,13) ^312,822 9,W0,flM
Statistical Data for Social Beformers. 371
The Foreign spirits (brandj, QenevA, &o.), bring up the rear :~-
]865. 1866. 1867. 1868.
England, gallons 2,645,304 3,1(H,392 3,300,106 3,643,836
Scotland „ 219,437 337,420 475,257 551,160
Ireland „ 169,627 228,538 249,015 253,737
U. Kingdom, galls 3,034,368 3,670,350 4,024,377 4,448,733
Adding the whole spirit tribe together, the result is this: —
1805. 1866. 1867. 1868.
England, gaUons 17,298,191 18,598,907 18,485,109 18,4^7,790
Scotland „ 5,621,117 6.053,144 5,803,418 5,812,583
Ireland , 4,624,553 5,362,809 5,248,048 5,131,087
U. Kingdom, galls 27,543,861 30,014,860 29,536,575 29,401,460
It thus appears that comparing the totals of the four years, the unenviable
supremacy was borne off by 1866, but that 1868, while less than both 1866 and
1^7, witnessed an excess over 18b5 of 1,857,599 gallons, to which the various
countries contributed — England, 1,159,599 gallons ; Scotland, 191,466 ; and Ireland,
506,534. The principal increase (1,414,365 gallons) has been in foreign spirits,
the use of which, under the French treaty has risen very considerablv ; and as
the purchasers of brandy are not usually the very poor, the well-to-do classes have
not much to boast of, in these figures, in evidence of that growing sobriety among
the higher classes, concerning which so much is affirmed and so little proved.
III. The Cost of Ixtoxicatino Liquobs ik 1868.
The ' Companion ' to the ' British Almanack for 1870 ' contains a paper by
Dr. S. Smiles, under the title of * Self-imposed Taxation — ^National Expenditure
on Drink and Tobacco.' Dr. Smiles enters into a careful consideration of the
expenditure in intoxicating liquors in 1868 ; and, as ignorant opponents of tem-
perance are fond of railing at statistics, ' cooked,' as they say, by temperance
writers, it will be well to compare Dr. Smiles's conclusions with those already
published in ' Meliora,' and other organs of temperance and social reform.
' Meliora' Estimate. Dr. Smiles's Estimate.
Ardent spirits ie30,253,605 ^630,568,232
Wine 11,363,805 12,987,927
Beer 59,768,870 43,749,556
Britishwines,cider,perry,&c 1,500,000 1,500,000
;ei02,886,280 ;£88,805,715
So that the difference between the two computations is only fourteen millions
sterling. An examination of the causes of this difference will not only show how
it arises, but will make it evident that the higher result is a nearer approximation
than Dr. Smiles's total to the actual drink expenditure of the British nation in
1868. In regard to both spirits and wine, Dr. Smiles's sums are in excess of
those presented in * Meliora,' in the aggregate proportion of j£43,556,159 to
jE41,G17,4ir. On the contrary, in regard to beer, the 'Meliora' estimate
is greatly above that of Dr. Smiles. There is no authentic measurement of
the amount of beer licensed and consumed within the United Kingdom; and
Dr. Smiles, in grounding his calculation on the malt used for home consump-
tion, takes 3^ barrels as produced from each quarter of malt. The Excise
computation, however, gives one barrel to two bushels, or four barrels
to every quarter ; and hence arises the difierence in the quantity of beer brewed,
which Dr. SmUes nUces at 749,983.824 gallons, and * Meliora ' at 896,533,056
gallons, or 24,903,696 barrels. Again, Dr. Smiles supposes each gallon to cost the
rovenue Is. 2d. = 42s. a barrel, whereas we have estimated it to bring the retailer
48s. ; and that this estimate is not excessive will appear if it be remembered that
Uie retailer pays for each barrel 36s., and that according to the testimony of wit-
nesses before the Public-house Select Committee of 1853-4 a profit of 35 per cent
is obtained, in some way or other, by the vendor. Dr. Smiles, indeed, freely
admits that a much higher sum is derived from this sooroe, for, he observes, * if
372
The 8toker^8 Revenge.
the dilution and adulteration of the beer as sold oyer the counter and in the beer-
houses be taken into account, and it is considered that by far the largest proportion
is sold to the working classes at 4d. and 6d. a quart, it will probably be aamitted
that this estimate is Terr considerably within the probable actmal expenditure.'
We conclude, therefore, tnat our own estimate for 1S68 is very moderate, and that
if it err at all it does so by underrating the money lavished by the British people
on intoxicating drinks — a sum equal to ^'3. Gs. 8d. for each person in the ITmted
Kingdom, or £16. 13b. 6d. for every family of five persons. Taking into account
the number of persons and families who are abstainers, the average for persons
and families who use alcoholic liquors will reach a still higher amount, snowing
that on the drink, which produces no sensible good but much terrible evil, as
much money is annually expended by the people of this country as would go Ux
towards lodging and clothing them the whole year round.
THE STOKSB'S SEVBNGE.
' Bo say you love me, Maggie.'
* Love you, Arthur ! how much ? '
' What a tease you can be, Maggie ! '
* So you want me to say I love you,
eh, Arthur ? Well, then, of course I
do ; Tm not a heathen, and its the duty,
you know, of every Christian man and
woman to love their neighbour, so I love
you, Arthur. How much, you would
say ? Well, you see that saucy little
bird on the twig there, with its smart
red waistcoat and pert black eye; I love
you, Arthur, just as much as, and un-
derstand me, no more than, perhaps,*
sotto voce, * that little bird. Isn't he a
pretty little fellow ? *
And her sweet, joyous laugh rang
out, half vexing, half charming her
admirer.
So they walked on through the plea-
sant wood, bare, as yet, with the ravages
of winter. A few brown, dry leaves still
clung on the trees like the rags of a once
magnificent royal robe hanging from the
shoulders of a* deposed and exiled king;
and here and there, where the spring
sunshine had coaxed the young buds
forth to meet him, the lamb's tails, as
the children call them, hung thickly on
evei7 bough, looking as if not only httle
Bo reep's flock, but thousands of little
lambs besides, had run home and lefi
instead of bringing their tails behind
them. Beside the path on which they
trod murmured and roared the never-
ceasing river — ^here breaking over stones
with indignant haste and fury, there
quietly gliding on its smooth course to
the sea — here sparkling and foaming in
the sunshine, uiere green and cold in
deep, deep pools, strangely typical of
the two young hearts that wandered on
80 careleaaly \)eBido it. Amon^ the
grass the starry primroses peeped forth,
with fair, sweet faces, to look at them;
the bluebells and orchids showed their
long green leaves amongst the oopse-
woGKi ; and over head the birds twittered,
and whistled, and warbled with ike gay
joyousness of early spring.
Maggie Symons was the prettiest girl
in Meryton. She had lived a petted,
healthy, happy country life up to this,
her twentieth summer. She was the
only daughter of a small farmer, whose
fields skirted the woods and river,
brought up amongst plenty and comfort
without a care — the idol of her indulgent
father and group of brothers, And the
pride even of the mother who found
fault with every other member of the
house for spoiling her, and insisted on
her working duigently towards her
maintenance.
Her rich profusion of black and
glossy hair, her bright colour, her merry
brown eyes, her mj smile, her regular
features and finely rounded figure, and
her saucy demeanour brought her hosts
of admirers, and she sported amongst
them like a chased butterfly amongst
its pursuers, now giving hope to one,
now to another, and then to a third,
and at last flying entirely away from
them all to give occupation and excite-
ment to a new group somewhere else.
She toyed with men's hearts quite care-
lessly, not ftam malice, but from the
feminine love of power which some
women calculate upon possessing for
only a limited time, and aooordmglj
make the most of while vouth ana
beauty last, and [Murtly, too, because her
own heart was still untouched, and an
unbounded love of fun made her enjoy
totoaaethe ' poor doting oreatiirea.*
The StoTcer^s Revenge.
878
* Maggie/ said Arthur, after a silence
on bis part which had lasted some
minutes, while his companion had been
singing * My love she's but a lassie yet/
* Maggie, do you care about anybody at
'Don't I,* said Maggie proYokingly,
ruting her rosy lips ; ' anybody at all !
should think so ; why, if you could
have seen me and Luke Weston here in
this wood last week by moonlight, you
might hare thought I liked somebody
then/
*Luke Weston!' exclaimed Arthur
Coles, drawing himself up to his full
height, and growing pale with passion,
*how dare he? let me know that he
comes here again with you in that style,
and by heayen I'll hare my revenge/
Maggie was almost frightened. • Non-
sense, Arthur, I'm not bound to you,
and vouVe no richt to order me or Luke
to obey you,' she said seriously; and
then, laughing again, *I'll keep my
freedom a long time yet, Arthur ; you
mustn't expect to have me pledge myself
to anybody for half-a-dozen years at
least; twenty-six! that's the age my
mother was married at, and she says its
plenty young enough to tie yourself to
the best of men, and none of you boys
can come up to father/
* Did you come here alone with Luke
by moonlight ? ' asked Arthur in a hol-
low voice. He did not appear to have
heard what she had been last saying.
*Come, come, Mr. Arthur Coles,
you've no business to ask me questions
in that fashion, and what is more to the
purpose, a jealous man would never
suit me; if vou can't keep your temper,
Arthur, well say good-bye at once/
She turned with a mocking curtsey, and
ran off towards her home, but she was
no match for the fleet footsteps of
Arthur Coles; he was presently by her
side again.
' Oh ! Maggie, I can't play about it ;
toll me you love me ; give me a right to
take care of you ; promise to be my wife.'
He held her hands in his, and gazed
into her eyes ; his voice trembled, his
lips quivered, and his face was very
white.
* Don't you remember the little bird,
Arthur ? I love vou and I love Mr.
Bedbreast, won't that suit you ? *
Maggie laughed again, but her laugh
was somewhat constrained. Arthur's
appearance moved her, as it must have
moved any woman.
* I see how it is, Luke has made you
oare more for him than you do for me.'
* You are silly, Arthur.'
* Can you deny it, Maggie? '
* I don't choose to gxy^you an account
of my actions and thoughts.'
The girl arched her neck and curled
her lip.
'Then you wish me never to come
near you again, Maggie? '
Arthur's voice was half choked with
sorrow and passion.
'Nonsense, Arthur, I don't want to
lose my friends ; at the farm they all
think you're a favourite with me, but
' you frighten me when you talk of mar-
rying.'
Arthur heaved a deep sigh. ' Bless
you for those kind words, Maggie.' I
felt almost mad just now, with Luke
and with myself too. May I gd home
withyou.'
* Yes,' she said, half slyly, ' if you
want to. '
Arthur, still holding her hands, bent
low over her face, and kissed her sweet
lips ; she tossed her head back from him,
a rich warm blush mantled her face and
neck, and she eave him a reproving
tap on his shoulder, and then without
another word he drew her arm within
his, and at a quick pace they returned
to the farm.
Arthur Coles and Luke Weston were
stoker and engine driver on the same
line. Tkev were not always together,
but generally both went on the engine
of the night express to London, which
leaving Meryton at 11 p.m., reached
the metropolis about seven on the
following morning.
But though both the young men were
suitors for the hand of Maggie, they
were extremely opposite in their charac-
teristics; Luse was singularly gentle,
affectionate, and trustful; Arthur, as
we have seen, passionate, jealous, and
suspicious. Every advantage that he
imagined Luke to have gained over the
heart of Maggie was the occasion of an
outburst of angry feeling either to the
girl he loved, or the more successful
rival. These outbursts Maggie laughed
at or pretended to grow offended Luke
bore uiem with kindness and patience.
And still Maggie tantalised them both,
and held in her hand, as it appeared»
the fate of three or four more with equal
nonchalance. Her conduct cannot be de-
fended. In the lighthearted happiness of
her life she did not dream or the real
374
The StoJcer^a Revenge,
miaery she was thus creating; it was
such fun to reign as a queen orer
Arthur to-day, Luke to-morrow, and
Bob and Harry and Dick the days fol-
lowing, to see the rough, rude fellows
trying to be as attentire to her least
wish as the greatest gentleman bom.
And who knew if, after all, the old gipsy
words would not prove true, and ner
husband be a rich lord with his coach
and six, and golden guineas in a golden
purse, and not one of these poor, half-
educated fellows after all ?
Through the darkness of a moonless
night at the end of March, in blinding
rain and howling, blustering wind, the
night express from Meryton to London
dashed along. The eleam of the fire
flashed up into the darkness amongst
the thick smoke, and the red lights of
the engine glared like the eyes of some
wild beast amidst the storm.
Before setting out on his journey
that terrible night Artiiur Coles had
entered the 'Dragon' public-house in
Meryton, eaDed for a dram, and swal-
lowai it eagerly.
' We shful haye a rough journey to-
night, landlord.'
' Yes,' said the besotted old man to
whom he spoke, ' that yoa will, Coles ;
I don't envy ennne drirers and stokers,
poor deyils, such a night as this.'
' That's a pretty name to call your
onstomers by,' said Coles, in an irri-
tated tone.
*No offence, Mr. Coles, no offence,
it's only my way; why 'twould be a
chance if I met an aneel, but what Fd call
him deyil before ](,'d done with him.'
'Derils are more in your line, are
they?' remarked Arthur ironically.
' what do you call Luke Weston, for
instance, is he angel or devil ? '
The old man grinned. * Young men
are apt to be jealous of each other when
pretty eirls are in the way.'
' Fool ! ' muttered Arthur, ' who said
I was jealous or had any reason to be
jealous of Luke Weston ? What girl
that had any spirit would prefer a poor,
cringing, meek fellow like that to a man
who was head oyer ears in loye with her,
and not afraid to tell her so.*
'Oh I it's come to that, is it, Mr.
Coles ? '
' Come to what, landlord ? '
' Why a Ixmd jide Tsudiu^:
* I neyer said w>, and Id V^x^ iwi
to hold your tongvxe oa ^SbiX vad c^«^
other matter concerning me. Here fill
me thia flask, best brandy mind ; I shall
haye need for it to-night'
*You will truly; if ever a man
wanted the good stuff to keep his soul
within him, 'tis to-night.'
* Luke doesn't giye you the fayoor of
his custom, landlord?'
' I don't belieye he fayours anybody ;
he's a mean, careful fellow, and latterly
he's been more stingr than eyer.'
' Saying, eh ? ' asked Arthur.
* Yes, saying for honsekeeping,'
chuckled the landlord, * but you'll stop
that business I reckon, Mr. Coles.'
'Did you eyer see the girl with him ?'
demanded Arthur, talking more freely
now that the dram was coursing through
his yeina.
< Come into the parlour, Mr. Coles,
it's comfortable in there, and no one in
yet, it wants nearly two hours to your
train, and we'll haye a snug glass and a
little confidential talk ; no faArm meant
to any party, you understand? ' The
old man wmked one of his small eyesi
' I don't mind if I do,' said Arthur.
* I want to get warm before I leaye, and
the station's a cold place to wait about,
and I don't mind teUing yon that Luke
and I will haye hours enough to spend
together to-night, without talking be-
forehand.'
< Missis,' called the landlord to his
wife, 'bring us some hot water and
sugar and a lemon, will ye? Sit down
by the fire, Mr. Coles ; throw on some
wood, missis, and make it cheery.'
The pleasant fire crackled and burned
briehtly, and Arthur sat yery close to
it, his feet on the fender, and his arms
folded, and oyer his face a dark cloud
hovering. 'Now. then, landlord,' he
said, when the door was shut, and the
old man was busy at the manufacture
of the grog, ' now, then, tell me what
you have seen.'
' Girls will be girls,' said the old land-
lord philosophically, tasting the grog
to ascertain its sweetness* ' and Mi^gie
Symons, bless h«r pretty faoe, hasn't a
mind to shut herself up in a comer.'
* Thaf s nothing here nor tJiere,' cried
Arthur, impatiently kicking his foot
against the fender, and thereby upset-
ting the fire-irons with a loud noise,
' tSl me, landlord, have yoa ever seen
Luke and Maggie alone together ? '
'More than onoe,' replied the old
TQKCi^<s^^>«aM \A«dd a sting to this
yqX£^«u9^^ ^ t&ssiA ^Qbasa. ^sosst^ >fiQies^'Ta
The Stoker's Revenge.
375
walked up into the wood together of an
evening, taking a bit of an airing, you
know, when its been moonlight ; ute old
farmer is partial to Luke, 'cause of his
canting wajs, and they trust Maggie
with him, and no mistake.'
* You're sure of this?' exclaimed
Arthur, springing to his feet, and going
close to the landlord, * answer me, man,
turn round, look me in the face, and
answer me.' A fierce grasp was on the
landlord's shoulder, and he turned obe-
diently.
* I'm telling the truth, Arthur Coles,
and what harm is there in it ? Next
moon maybe she'll go with you.'
* I swear,' said Arthur solemnly, 'that
Maggie Symons shall nkybr enter that
wood again with Luke Weston. Curse
him, he has taught her to make a fool
of me.'
* Come now, come now, you are going
too far, take a elass of my grog, Mr.
Coles, and you'll feel better, there's
more than one pretty girl in the world,
isn't there ? '
Arthur sat moodily by the fire, and
did not speak. The old man put a chair
between them to rest their glasses on,
handed him a tumbler of the steaming
beverage, and sat down on the opposite
side of the firephice. The wind whistled
down the chimney, puffing the smoke
every now and then into their faces,
and a scowl rested on Arthur's brow,
growing more settled and intense every
moment, for the devils, drink, jealousy,
anger, and revenue were holding their
black carnival in his heart.
* Do you smoke, Mr. Coles ? '
Arthur started. His mind was far
away on the engine half-way to London,
just at the long run between the towns of
Atherley and Grevstone ; he came back
with an effort to the ' Dragon* bar par-
lour, * No, landlord, it makes mo ill.'
* You don't object to a pipe for me,
perhaps,' said the old man, to whom
this tite-h-tite with the stoker was not
the jolly afiair, spiced, perhaps, with a
little anger, that he had expected it to be.
*No, do as you like,' answered
Arthur, coolly emptying the tumbler of
grog, • only pour me out another glass,*
and then he relapsed again into moody
silence.
' How long does it take you to walk
to the station, Mr. Coles?' said the
landlord after ton minutes, when the
only noises had been the occasional
clinking of the glasses and the puffing
he made from his own pipe.
'A quarter of an hour, landlord.
What is the time ? '
* Just past ton.'
* Then Id better be off. Good night
Stop; Where's the fiask? How much
do 1 owe you ? A pint of brandy fills
it, doesn't it ? What have I had ? One
dram, three glasses of grog, and a room
t« sit and think in. I ve not been good
company, old fellow; maybe I'd do
better next time. Give me the change.'
He threw half-a-sovereign on the
table, pocketed the brandy flask, picked
up the silver, and with another ' Good
night, landlord,' left the house. He
walked through the storm at a furious
pace to the station, and was there in
good time, and in less than an hour
afterwards was whirled along the line
towards the metropolis. He had hardly
spoken to Luke, and then in a snappish,
ungraeious manner; but the latter
appeared absorbed in some pleasant
thoughts, for Arthur noticed by the
glare of the engine fire that he smiled to
himself and whistled gaily amidst the
storm. A slight circumstance added to
the stoker's fury. Once as Luke drew
near the fire behind the screen to warm
his benumbed hands, Arthur observed
that he wore a pair of scarlet thick cuffs
around his wriste. They seemed to
show a woman's thoughtfulness for his
comfort, and the voung man remarked
bitterly, * You teke precious good care
of yourself, Luke Weston.'
* Bather ; I've people kind enough to
take good caro of me, Arthur.'
♦That's it, is it? I thought so. May-
be you like a confounded little flirt to
work for you, who'd make a pair of
scarlet cuffd for the devil hims^f if he
coaxed and kissed and asked her for
them.'
* Arthur,' said Luke, kindly, 'rm
not speaking of Maggie. It was old
Mrs. Symons, Maggie's grandmother,
who gave them to me. She's a kind
old lady, as you know, and would have
made you a pair with just as much
pleasure. Don't let us quarrel, man.
The wind and rain are enough to be at
war with to-night. I can hardly see a
few yards before me for the biting hail-
showers.'
Arthur did not speak aloud, but he
muttered a curse against Luke as the
latter went back to his post.
On and on ! How little the first-class
passengers, sheltered and wvrm, thought
of the sufferings of the engine driver
and stoker that night, not so bad either
376
Ths Sioker^s Revenge.
for Arthur as for Lake, for ke was con-
stantly by the warm fire. On and on !
flying past the little stations in the
country, where sleepy station masters
hoistea the signal of safety. On and
on ! only pausing to take breath at the
larger towns and cities. And now
Awerley was reached, and as they waited
here for ten minutes, the two men got
off the engine and walked about a little.
Luke had a cup of hot coffee, and
Arthur took a long draught from his
little flask, and the flery hquid rushed
into his brain, filling him with the ex-
citement that he desired to feel. The
passengers bustled about getting re-
freshments and hurrying again into
their snug carriages. Gentlemen curled
themselves up in their rugs, wrapped
the few ladies who trarelled at night
comfortably in their warm shawls, and
brought them tea and coffee, or a few
drops of brandy to keep out the cold.
The fresh arrivals took their plaees ;
the few who alighted at their journey*!
end made their way speedily with their
luggage to the cabs outside ; the engine
screamed its note of warning, the guard
whistled, and on went the train again.
This was at two a.m., and there was no
stopping again for an hour and forty
minutes, and then they would reach Grey-
stone. Arthur hugged himself in an
ecstasy of mad delight, and muttered,
* Now I've got you, old fellow^ and I'll
have my revenge/ He waited like a
tiger in his lair, sipping at the flask till
Luke came once more to warm himself.
' 'Tis good to get near fire such a night
as this and no mistake,' he said good
temperedly, glancing up at Arthur
from his stooping position over the fire.
The stoker's face was full of terrible
passion, the big veins on his forehead
were swollen, his brow knit, his lips
compressed, his teeth set, and his eyes
glared under their shaggy eyebrows. The
animal nature had asserted its empire,
the Gk>dlike seemed banished utterly.
* What's the matter, Arthur, are you
ill?'
Luke could not understand that
dreadful face.
' 111 ? why should I be ill? what odds
is it to mo if Maggie Symons is a little
fool, and chooses to throw herself away
upon a pale, spiritless coward, who
cares nothing about her, more than to
get what other men want.'
Luke coloured to the roots of his hair.
Hot, indignant words came from his
lips, but he understood and pitied
Arthur, and he straggled to conquer
himself.
*Hush, Arthur, don't let's quarrel
to-night, the people in the train won't
thank us if we do. Maggie's a bright,
beautiful girl, you know it and I know
it, but I'm afraid she'll not make up her
mind to have either of us just yet ; so
we needn't quarrel till she refuses you
or me.'
* Don't gammon me, Luke, I'm not
in a temper to be soft-soaped to-night,
the girl goes with you aJone to take
moonlight walks in the old wood ; and
she's refused me to do that. Not onoe or
twice, Master Sneak, but many times
you've gone there with her, don't sup-
pose nobody sees you, can't I employ
watchers if I will ? "
* You can,' replied Luke gravely and
calmly, 'but you would hfidly be so
mean.'
* Mean I mean ! ! mean ! ! ! ' cried
Arthur passionately* with an oath, * how
dare you call me mean, Luke Weston ?
you shall fight for this.'
The brandy and the passion rendered
Arthur furious, his eyes glared, his nos-
trils were distended, and he stood before
Luke like a madman as the latter still
stooped over the fire. Now Luke raised
himself ; thanks to his sobriety and his
good temper, he was able to estimate
their position, to dread the consequences
of any rash word on his part, and to
feel kindly towards his rival. ' Come
Arthur, if we must fight about it, let us
choose a larger ground than a railway
engine. We're not our own masters till
seven in the morning, and then we'll
talk about it.'
* Coward,' exclaimed Arthur, * you're
afraid to fight me.'
* I am on a railway engine, and you
should be afraid too, Arthur.'
*rm not afraid, I have justice on
my side; you've stolen my Maggie
from me, Luke Weston — the prettiest,
sweetest girl that ever lived till she
knew you.' The poor fellow's voice
faltered. ' She'd almost told me half-
a-dozen times that she loved me till
you came round, sneaking round ; and
now I've found you out man, and here
is your battlefield, and I swear you
shall fight for her before we reach
Grey stone.'
Luke glanced nervously round, to
judge whether he eould make his way
to the guard's van ; he might have triea,
but how leave the ensiner And might
not Arthor follow mm? Duty and
The Stoher't Revenge.
877
read both forbade, and he could not
take care of the lives entrusted to him,
could not watch the line for signals, if
he attempted thus to insare his own
safety. Perhaps it would have been
wiser to risk this, but his sense of
honour made him hesitate, and in
another moment the grasp of the infu-
riated Arthur was upon him, and dear
life was to be fought for on that narrow
field. On and on through the night
the engine pursued its way ; and fiercely
upon it the battle raged between the
two lovers of beautiful Maggie. If she
could have seen them, what terror would
have shone forth from those bright
ejes ! But she lay peacefully upon
her snowy bed, and pleasant dreams,
not, alas ! of Arthur nor of Luke, but
of one she was beginning to feel dearer
than either, made sweet smiles fiit
across the rosy lips, and warm blushes
suffuse the cheeks, and fond words
escape her tongue.
AJad now, after many thrusts, and
many dreadful blows, and many near
escapes from falling orer the edge of
the engine, Luke has Arthur in his
power, and with a firm grasp he holds
him down. The firelight gleams on
the foaming lips and staring eyes ; shall
he kill him in self-defence r WotUd it
be murder ? An intense longing to be
free from this mad companionship, this
fearful death struggle, makes him feel
for hifl only weapon — his pocket-knife ;
bat he pauses as his hand seeks it in
his pocket, and, taking the opportunity,
Arthur, with a mad leap, is on his feet
again, and in another moment ihej
haye chanced places.
'Coward,' cried Arthur tauntingly,
* there you lie, my prisoner ; no knife
is needed to finish you ; I hare but to
thrust Tou into the burning flames, and
you'll be a martyr to your love. Or
Dstter still, get up, man, and I'll hurl
you from your engine. How can I
help it if you've thrown yourself off ? *
' For Gkxi's sake, Arthur Coles, if yoa
will murder Tne remember the other
lives against whom you have no grudge,
and who are in this train ; conduct
them safely to Greystone, and then ask
for another driver, and may God have
mercy on you.'
•Gfod!' shrieked Arthur, *no, talk
not to me of Gt}d ; I'm the servant of
the devil, and I'll have my revingb 1 '
He glanced around the engine,
dragged Luke to one side, and pushed
him violently over. A man's despainog
death-cry rose to heaven as Luke fell
under the wheels, and Arthur grinned
as he heard the crunching of ^ ene-
my's bones. When the train had whirled
past, he looked back beyond the line of
carriages, and in the faintest streaks of
the grey dawn he saw something white
upon the rails, and ohuckl^ and
grinned and shouted with triumph as
he gazed and gazed until it was lost to
sight.
He glanced then upon his bloody
garments, and felt, with a dread instinct
more than by anv effort of reason, that
they would condemn him. Greystone
was soon within sight; he made no
effort to stop the engine, and it went
quickly past the station, though all the
brakes of the guard's van were applied.
The guard, in terror at the event, came
cautiously along to the engine to have
it explained ; he found iSthur alone,
and the stoker's garments bore witness
to a deadly fray.
*What has happened?' cried the
guard, backing the engine at once to the
statiom with a determined air.
* I've had my revenge ! ' cried the
stoker, in a hissing whisper, coming
close to the guard, and spring in his
ear.
*Your revenge! npon whom? why,
Where's Luke Weston? Coles, you've
murdered him.'
* I've had my revenge.'
* What's the matter with von. Coles?
you've been drinking, confound you ;
you're drunk now, I do believe; well
soon put you ofi'this engine ; what have
you done with the bodv ? *
Arthur trembled and shivered. * I've
had my revenge on him; MacgieSymons
shall never walk to the wood again with
him alone by moonlight'
* Tou're cracked about that girl.
Coles, and if you've murdered Luke,
I can tell you I wouldn't like to stand
in your shoes for a pretty penny. It
will be a case of hanging, Co&s ; ooUeot
yourself, and prepare for the worst.
What have you done with the body ? *
The train .was in the station by this
time, and the facts became known witti
lightning speed. The blood and hair
on the wheels of the engine revealed the
truth which Arthur could not or would
not tell, and he was detained in oustodj
while an engine and carriage went to
search for the dead body, ^ey found
a mangled corpse on Uie line ; it was
difficult to recognize in the crushed head
and limbs the &e stalwart young engine
378
dnvor who had lett Uer;rh)n in fall
health nnd spifiU the prsTioaa evening,
and irbom tho guard and some of tl^
puaengen bad ssen and spoken to nt
Athorloy ; but tharo ma ■ flight more
terrible still in the tlrunk«n madiiun
hiB murderer, who muttered continiullj
in coe unbroken Bentecce, ' So I Fve
had m; revsngo on Luke Weaton, and
Maggie flhall nsrer violk with him to
the wood again, alone in the moonligbL'
Of course the guard was right; there
was thd gallDws at the end of Arthur's
career, and to that he would Br« long
arriTe, for tha law, Chough it liceaset
men to Bupplj brain poison to the
Tictimi of a degraded appetite, does not
ahield theee from the consequenoas of
the dreadful acta to which tb^ an
tempted in their raadneas.
The news of the tragedy reached
Maggie the same day that it nappened.
Coming in to supper, her father met her
with a grare face, and told her of thg
dreadfm occurrenoe, and that her name
was on the murderer's lips.
' How well 'lis, father, that I noTer
thought ieriouilfof either of them poor
Notuxa of Books.
fellows ', I should blame mynlf, but I
nerer gars either of then sot fmI
reason to think 1 cared more for odd
than the other. Tom, did you erer
hear of such a horrible affair ?' and abe
turned to the young farmer who sat be-
side her at that erening meal, and with
a few tean and sobs repeated the Bttaj
In a few weeks more her hands and
thouebts were busy preparing for her
wedding; and If thacarsof poor Arthur
Coles had been acute enou^, he might
har« heard on the day of his eieoutiaB,
Just as the noose vtaa round hia neck,
the bells of Meryton church, fifteea
miles Bwa^, pealing forth merrily for
the wedding of Thomaa Prince, the
well-to-do farmer, and beantifulHaggia
Symons, and the sweet 'I will' waa
uttered before the altar just w the
heavy thad af hia deaoending body (dec-
tnSed the eager crowd. StunuUted by
jealouiy, wrought to frenzy by aloobal,
ha had lost for her his peace and ltf«^
and caused good, tni»-hearted Inks
Weston's daa&, of whose onselBoh 1ot«
Ma^ie would DerarhaTe been worthy.
NOTICES C
Becent Ihtauiioiu on the Abolition of
JPaterOt for InvttOioni tn (*« Vnittd
Kingdom. France, Grrmany and He
Setkerlandt. Evidenee, Spetchea, and
Paper! in itt Faeoar, with Suggeitiont
at to Iniemational ArrangeTnenh re-
garding Inrmtione and Copi/r^ht.
Fp.342. London: LoQgmans,Green,
Beader, and Dyer.
Mb. MAcria, M.P., makes B strong
attack in this volume on the existing
aystam of patents. He has collected
speeches, papers, or other evldeuce, by
Sir Wm, Armstrong. M. Benard, Count
Biimark, M. Chevalier. M. Pock, M.
Godefroi, Bir Raundell Palmer, the
present £arl of Derby, James Stirling,
Esq., and other autboritias— in short,
a mast of testimony, British or foreign,
with comment from the daily and
weekly nsWHpaners; andhe;u«eflths3eand
all other available ammunition, in order,
At he Bays, to ooatribule lo ' the emiin-
cipatJOD of British productive industry
from artiScial restraints, which is the
needful arcompanimsnt and tho com-
plement of free trade, and in hope that
public attention will now at length be
turned towards procuring such a solu-
Hoa u will sati^ kt tiie uiq« t^me tU
tion would continue to be stimulated aa
much as it is now, if patents wer*
abolished. The glittering; dream of
sucoessTul patentee wealth, — generaUf
unrealised even by the moat meritorious
inventors, and oi^y now and then aom-
ing true OS in the case of an Arkwri^t,
or a Bessemer, is yet sufficiently mid
to set invention on the rack, nA to
make men live laborious days and toil
through long veera of unceitiintf, in
the hope of l»mg enabled to seeur« to
themselves snch brilliant finantrial re-
sults in the end aa are only poosibla
under a patent system. We have not
been aatisflfd that the power of patent-
ing could be dispensed with, witfaoat
more loss in this respect tbaa thare
would be gain in entire emanoipation of
manufacture and trade ; nor does iSx.
MacSe a*en yet oonvince us. But aa a
repertory of all (hat can ba aajd on
that side of the question which be ao
« t« th«
Notices of BooJu.
379
I^ational BobrietyDUcuued in a Dialogue
letween a PuhHcan^ a Clergyman^ and
a Physician, |By the Rev. Dawson
Burns, A.M., Joint Author of the
Temperance Bible Commentary.
Lonaon: Alliance Offices, 23, King
William -street
With his customary acuteness and
skill, Mr. Burns conducts in this four-
teen page tract a conversation between
the characters named in the title, and
makes the contests which arise con-
ducive to a sound temperance and pro-
hibition conclusion.
Onward : The Organ of the Band of
Hope Movctneyit. Volume IV., 1868-9.
Pp. 286. London : Tweedie. Man-
chester: Lancasbire and Cheshire
Band of Hope Union, 43, Market-
street.
Nicely bound in cloth, this hand-
some volume contains all the numbers
of 'Onward* for the last eighteen
months. Prose articles, recitations,
songs, hymns, and music form its
various contents, and are of such a cha-
racter as to justify and account for its
popularity amongst conductors and
members of Bancb of Hope. A good
photographic portrait of Mr. William
Hoyle, Honorary Secretary of the Lan-
cashire and Cheshire Ba^d of Hope
Union, and Author of Hymns, Songs,
and Recitations for Bands of Hope,
&c., forms an appropriate frontispiece
to the volume.
Methods of Teachina Arithmetic, A
Lecture^ addressed to the London
Association of Schoolmistresses, By J.
G. Fitch, M.A., one of Her Miy'esty's
Inspectors of Schools. London : E.
Stamford, Charing Cross.
The Science of Arithmetic: a Systematic
Course of Numerical Beasoning and
Computation. With very numerous
Exercises, By James Cornwell.Ph.D.,
and Joshua G. Fitch, MJL. Twelfth
Edition.
The School Arithmetic^ formerly called
Arithmetic for Beginners. By James
Com well, Ph.D. , and Joshua Fitch,
M.A. Tenth Edition. London:
Simpkin, Marshall, & Co.
Mr. Fitch lays much stress in his
lecture on arithmetic the science, as dis-
tinguished from arithmetic the art
The importance of arithmetic as an art
has, he thinks, been commonly over-
yalued, and its value as a science in-
sufficiently recognised. He holds that
pupils, before entering apon a rule,
should be made to look well into the
nature of the problem to be solved, and
to join the teacher in the search for the
right method of working it. He would
have an illustrative example worked
out before the pupil by the teacher
solely with a view to the demonstration
of the theory of the rule; in doing
which, every axiom and general prin-
ciple should be stated in plain language,
so as to account for the reason of every
step of the process. Nothing should
ever be taken for granted. There being
a reason for every step, that reason
should be supplied. ' In life,' he says,
* sums are not presented to us in the
shape of sums, nor in the concise lan-
guage employed in school-books; but
m questions of more or less complexity
which require to be disentangled, re-
solved into their simpler elements, and
translated, so to speak, out of the lan-
guage of common life into the language
of the arithmetic book. But then it is
this kind of exercise of which pupils
get too little in schools. The teacher is
apt to do all this preliminary work of
interpreting the question for them, and
to be content, if after the sum is set
down as a sum, it is correctly worked.
Whereas it is this very work of think-
ing out the meaning of a sum and
setting it down which is most diffi-
cult, and in the business of life most
important.' Apart from the merely
calculating value of arithmetic, Mr.
Fitch pleads especially for its use as a
scientino training for the mind ; and he
and his partner have constructed the
arithmetics named above, holding this
leading principle distinctly in mind all
through. The patient fulness of expla-
nation manifested in the larger work is
remarkable, and seems to have com-
mended it te a wide public already, as
the title page bears on its face the words
* twelfth edition.' The smaller work of
later issue, seems to be rapidly attaining
to similar favour, not, we think, with-
out sufficient reason.
The Sunday-school World: an Ency^
chpadia of Facts and Principles^
Illustrated by Anecdotes and Quota-
tions from the Works of the Most
Eminent Writers on Sunday-school
Matters. Edited by James Comper
Gray. London: Elliot Stock.
The intelligent and pains-takinff author
of * Topics for Teachers,' 'The Glass
and the Desk,' and other similar publi-
cations, haa projected another work, to
380
Notices of BooJcs,
be completed in eighteen monthly parts,
containing the soif of matter indicated
in the title. It is designed to be a refe-
rence book for an who are connected in
any way with the Sunday-school, to con-
tain condensed and classified practical
information and counsel on all matters
concerning the Sunday-school and its
work, — to be, in short, * a digest of all
that is worthy of notice that has been
written concemiiag the Sunday-school/
A Ycry copious index is promised.
Ja It Trite? A Protest Against the
Employment of Fiction as a Channel
of Christian Influence, By the Bev.
George Wm. Butter, M.A. London:
W. Macintosh, 74» Paternoster Bow.
Ms. Buma would bum up the best
works of fiction without mercy. We
do not at all sympathise with him
in his headlong destructive zeal. There
is fiction and fiction ; the worst is bad
in every way ; but the best is a precious
casket curiously wrought, and most emi-
nently fitted to contain the priceless
truth which is always within it.
Lectures and Sermon, By the Eer.
T. Ashcroft, Parkgate, Botherham.
London: William Tweedie, 337,
Strand.
A * rtap ' into Mr. Ashcroft's * Album '
reveals a series of ' portraits of real life'
The characters sliown up are 'John
Sneeze,' * James Smoke,' * Timothy
Sip,' 'Samuel Flirt,' 'Charles Soft,'
* Simon Sloth,' and * Henry Start'— the
last being the model youth, and the
others marked by faults or Tices oon-
fessed in their names. The portraits
are drawn with vigour and dash, and
are both amusing and instructive. The
sermon is entitled ' Our Lads : A Plea
for Sabbath Schools,' and points out in
earnest language simdry serious evils
to which youths are exposed.
Tbpics for Teachers: A New Work for
JfinisterSf Sunday-school Ttachers^
and others, on an entirely new plan.
Monthly. By James Comper Gray,
Halifax. Illustrated with over 200
Engravings and eight first-class Maps.
London: Elliot Stock, 62, Pater-
noster Bow.
The Hive: A Storehouse of Material
for Working Sunday-school Teachers.
Monthly. London: Elliot Stock, 62,
Paternoster Bow.
Old Jonathan, the JDistriet and Parish
Helper, W. H. and L. CoUingridge,
117 to 120, Aldersgate-street.
The Scattered Nation. Edited by C.
Schwartz, B.I).— -The Church. A
Penny Monthly Maeazine. — 2%c
Appeal, A Magazine lor the People.
London: Elliot Stock, 62, Pater-
noster Bow.
The Lifeboat, or Journal of the National
Lifeboat Institution. Quarterly. 14,
John-street, Adelphi, London.
Seventeenth Annual Report of the Coun-
cil of the City of Manchester on the
Working of the Public Free Libraries.
Manchester : Tubbs and Brook.
DISOONTINUANGE OF 'MELIOBAJ
THE Proprietors have decided that after the present number, completing the
Volame, 'Meliora' shall be discontinued. Originated in 1858 — one of
the earliest of the low-priced magazines which have since then become so numer-
ous— * Meliora ' has, during eleven ^ears, presented a large mass of valuable
information on matters connected with social science to a considerable circle of
readers, and whilst advocating the cause of prohibitory legislation, has extended
the knowledge of the Alliance movement in quarters in w^ch otherwise it might
long have remained unknown. It is now felt that the time has come when service
of this kind is no longer necessary. The economical, social, and moral calamities
inevitably resulting from the liquor traffic are now acknowledged on every hand,
and the existence and claims of the Alliance are a secret to none engaged in social
or political reform. Literary organs like • Eraser,' * The London Beview,' and
other high -classed periodicals, as well as a large number of daily and weekly news-
papers, are now from time to time putting before the pubhc the facts and argu-
ments on which the Alliance relies. Aid of this kind is sure to be rendered with
increasing readiness now that the movement with such long strides is progressing
in populf^ estimation. With hearty thanks, therefore, to all the friends who have
so steadfastly supported this Beview, we announce its discontinuance after the
issue of this number.
»J
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